Without Ron
by DreamingOwl
Summary: On August 28th, 1981, a Death Eater attack on St. Mungo's left 10 dead. One of those killed was seventeen month old Ronald Weasley. How does his death change the world?
1. Prologue

Hello everyone! I am DreamingOwl and I welcome you to _Without Ron_, a study in one of the 'could-have-beens' of the Potterverse, had one particular event, which you will read shortly, happened. This is a story that has not been planned out entirely but I hope to do so with the copious amounts of free time I have this summer. After the summer, well, then we'll see.

This story is not betaed. It will be read by friends of mine, but as I'm the one known for being the best at English out of all of us, how much they will catch is questionable. Should anyone like to beta for me (and I would love you dearly for doing so) please PM me so we can work something out.

Thank you, and enjoy (and review, I would hope)!

Disclaimer: I solemnly swear that I am not blonde or British and therefore not JK Rowling. That being said, the Potterverse does not belong to me.

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**Prologue**

It was August 28th, 1981. The sun was shining as Molly Weasley picked up her youngest son, leaving her sister-in-law in charge of the rest of the children, to visit St. Mungo's. Her baby needed a vaccine against Sprite Sickness, a common malady in young children that caused them to float randomly and turn green, before finally leading to them shrinking and then dying. Mother and son walked down to the edge of their property and then the witch stuck out her wand, summoning the Knight Bus.

It was an uneventful trip as the woman stuck her chair to the floor and her behind to the seat before rocking her son who screamed for food. He was going to be such a strong boy, otherwise he wouldn't need as much food as he did, more than any of his brothers had ever demanded. Yes her ickle Ronnikins would be a strong, handsome boy one day, just like his father.

When the bus arrived at the hospital she departed quickly, forcing her way through the crowded streets towards the old department store and walking up to the manikin. "Hello, I'm here to get a vaccination for my son."

The hideously dressed dummy nodded and beckoned with its jointed finger. Molly stepped through the glass, into a busy room crowded with witches and wizards suffering form various maladies. Dodging a man whose head was stuck inside a caldron, she stood in line at the Inquiries desk to ask where to go. It should be the second floor, but the room changed and it was ever so hard to find at times.

She was second in line when the first scream erupted from a woman who a moment later fell to the ground, no longer with a throat. Molly tried to apparate, despite the dangers to her child, but realized the Death Eaters had made that impossible. Her wand was out before her thoughts caught up and she held her son close as she began to fight a mask. It was nearly even, although she was on the defensive, and hope to survive stuck in her throat. All she had to do was stay safe until the Aurors arrived.

Then a crimson red spell coming from another fight shattered her shield and the next thing she knew two spells impacted her at once.

* * *

She woke to the concerned face of a young mediwitch leaning over her. "Ma'am, are you alright?"

Molly blinked up at her confusedly before her thoughts re-ordered themselves. Ron's vaccination, the death eaters, being hit by two spells...

Two spells, one of which had been bright green. "No," she whispered, "No!"

"Ma'am?" The woman looked at the red haired witch.

"My son," Molly looked around, "Where is my son?"

Slowly, her body protesting and her head throbbing she stood. When had she gotten against the wall?

"Ma'am, what does your son look like?" The witch asked, grabbing Molly's arm as she stumbled.

"Red-haired, but he's just a baby, a seventeen-month-old. Blue eyes," she smiled out of reflex, "just like his father."

"Oh," the mediwitch's face fell and Molly grabbed her arms, the smile disappearing.

"Where's my baby? Is he alright?"

"Come with me, Mrs..."

"Weasley, please where is he?" She felt almost numb, her brain now focused on one thing. Two spells, one green, but she wasn't dead. She wasn't dead, but Ron wasn't with her. Where was Ron? He couldn't be dead. He was with someone, playing. Probably demanding food and his mummy.

She was led, almost in shock over to an area where stretchers were being set up. "Please Mrs. Weasley, stay here, a healer will look at your head. I'll go look for your son, okay?"

Molly nodded, but the action sent a sharp pain through her head. A mediwizard came over and stood behind her, speaking swiftly. She gave him short answers she didn't remember a moment later. Where was her baby?

The healer left once her head was fixed and she'd taken a potion- disgusting as always- leaving her sitting there anxiously. She was about to get up and hunt for her second youngest before the mediwitch returned, an older man wearing the insignia of a senior healer on his robes.

"Mrs. Weasley, please come with me," the senior healer said as the younger woman nodded encouragingly.

"You'll take me to my son?" She asked, standing.

"Yes Mrs. Weasley," the man led her to a table in another part of the main floor which was being used... she looked carefully at the beds... as a... oh no.

"He's dead," she trembled.

"Please Mrs. Weasley, can you confirm this is your child?" The man uncovered a small lump on what looked like a desk. Her young boy lay there, silent as he almost never was, as he shouldn't be. He was always lively, chasing after his brothers, hugging a teddy bear tightly to his chest.

"No, no, no, no!" She began wailing. "Not my Ronald, not my Ronald, should have been me, should have been me, my fault, my fault!"

"Mrs. Weasley, is there someone we can call? Your husband, ma'am?" The woman hugged her, attempting to guide her to a chair. Molly shrugged her off and clung to the desk with white knuckles. How could he be dead? How could her youngest son, her precious ickle Ronnikins, be dead? These things, they happened to other people, not her. How could he be dead?

"Mrs. Weasley?" The woman repeated and Molly looked at her with tears streaking down her cheeks. "Your husband? Where can we reach him?"

"The, the Misuse of, of," the word slipped her mind and she struggled to find it, "Muggle Artifacts office," she shook, "at the Ministry."

"Okay Mrs. Weasley," the mediwitch nodded. "Why don't you sit here," -when had a chair been brought?- "and I'll call him."

"Al-alright," she nodded, then sat in the chair, staring at the still body of her son. No, it wasn't alright. How could anything ever be right again?

* * *

_**The Daily Prophet: 29 August 1981**_

_**Attack on St. Mungo's!**_

_**By Edward MacDougal**_

_In an attack that has shocked and horrified the Wizarding World, yesterday Death Eaters appeared at St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries. Just after eleven in the morning, 15 Death Eaters apparated into the hospital and immediately put up wards against apparation and portkeying._

_Aurors were on the scene less than 20 minutes after the attack began, but not in time to stop 10 deaths and 37 injuries. Ronald Weasley, the youngest son of Ministry employee Arthur Weasley (Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office), was killed as his mother, Molly, fought to protect him. Mrs. Weasley was one of those injured in the attack, but is now physically okay despite being in mourning for her son. Also killed were Neville Fudge, brother to Junior Minister Cornellius Fudge (Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes) and Grimwald Jorkins, nephew to Ministry employees Stamford Jorkins (Press Office) and Bertha Jorkins (Improper Use of Magic Office). We at The Daily Prophet send our condolences out to all the families who lost loved ones yesterday._

_The Aurors captured three Death Eaters, despite most portkeying away as they arrived. Earvin Travers, age 21, Rabastan Lestrange, age 25, and Adam Jugson, age 27, are now in custody. Trial dates have not yet been set._

_For a complete list of casualties from yesterdays attack, see page 3_

_For a list of the memorial services to be held for the victims, see page 5_


	2. The Secret of Platform Nine and Three-Qu

**Good day everyone and welcome to the second chapter of _Without Ron_! I'd like to thank everyone who reviewed; I had some very insightful commentary that caused me to consider some points I hadn't thought of yet. As for the rest of you, silent readers, speak up! Your comments make me think and inspire me to write more quickly! **

**Ash Forgot Pass- I hope not to disappoint you and your points will come up in this chapter. **

**SonofWhitebeard- He'll probably be trying! It should make the confrontation (if I write it) second year much more venomous. **

**LightsPast- Thank you much!**

**Slytherin66- You're welcome, first of all. I've never been fond of Ron, which may be why I had no qualm about killing him off. Thank you as well; Everything you wrote made me consider many more consequences of the attack that could have happened and I had to really think about Fudge and what he would have done. In addition I had to research his character and how he became Minister in the first place. It didn't change much, mostly because of his personality and lack of wits. I can't say much, lest I spoil later chapters, but many of your comments are addressed in this chapter, so enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: Harry Potter lies over the ocean, Harry Potter lies over the sea, Harry Potter lies in Britain, oh Harry Potter belongs not to me!**

**Also, much of this chapter takes from chapter 6 of Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone. If you can recognize it, it probably wasn't written by me. **

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**Chapter 1: The Secret of Platform 9 3/4**

Kings Cross Station was bustling as Harry pushed his trolley towards the signs that said 'Platform 9' and 'Platform 10.' The Dursleys had driven off, laughing all the way, as they headed for the hospital to get Dudley's tail removed. Apparently it wasn't fashionable these days to go to school with the pigs tail you'd magically been given.

Harry looked around for the platform, seeing nothing even remotely magical, then asked the guard for the eleven o'clock train. All that bright idea resulted in was a grumbling guard and an even more worried Harry. There was no Hogwarts train, no eleven o'clock train at all. Just as worry and the feeling that maybe this _had_ really all been a big joke began to set in, he heard a voice behind him.

"-packed with Muggles, of course-"

Harry spun around and caught the source of the voice walking in a pack of red-heads. Hurriedly, he shoved his trolley after them, certain when he overheard mention of the platform he was looking for that this group could help him.

There were six of them, two adults and four children, all with bright red hair and three of them with trunks. The tallest of the children had an owl as well, the brown-feathered bird perched on his cart.

"Percy, you first," the man said. The tallest, and likely the oldest, boy grabbed his trolley and began wheeling it toward the wall between the platforms, but before Harry could see what happened, a group of backpackers stepped in front of him. By the time the last bright orange bag had left his vision, the boy had disappeared.

"Fred, go on," the woman, round in the hips but with a thin face that looked burdened by sadness, attempted to smile for her son.

The boy, a twin, he realized, to the other, stepped forward. "I'm not Fred, I'm George," the boy said with an exasperated smile. "Honestly, woman, you call yourself our mother? Can't you _tell _I'm George?"

"Sorry, George, dear."

"Only joking, I am Fred," said the boy with a cheeky grin. The woman's sad demeanor was briefly replaced with a smile and the boy ran, his twin calling for him to hurry up. Harry watched and the boy disappeared a moment later- but how? Could wizards simply vanish like that?

The last of the boys was now walking briskly toward the barrier, closer and closer, and then he two was gone. Harry walked quickly over and caught the man before he followed the woman and girl who had just gone the way of the boys.

"Excuse me," Harry touched the arm of the thin, glasses wearing man. "Could you tell me how to get on to the platform?"

"Of course! You're a first year? Muggleborn?" The man asked with a kind smile.

"Muggle raised," he said.

"Muggles, such interesting people with eckeltricity and all that. Do you like plugs? Anyway," the man shook his head, "all you have to do is walk straight at the barrier between platforms nine and ten. Don't stop and don't be scared about crashing- that's important- just do it at a bit of a run if you're nervous."

"Okay," he nodded, "Thank you, sir."

"You're welcome, and good luck," the red-head said with a nod of the head. Harry took a breath and lined up his trolley, then began to walk steadily toward the wall. People jostled him and Harry picked up speed. Thoughts of crashing ran through his head and he did his best to shove them out of the way. Leaning forward, Harry broke into a heavy run, the barrier looming nearer and nearer until he knew he couldn't stop, he was going to crash, his cart out of his control-

The impact never came and he opened the eyes he hadn't realized he closed. Ahead was a scarlet steam engine billowing white smoke and a platform packed with people. A sign overhead claimed it was the eleven o'clock train -so there, guard- 'Hogwarts Express' and below that the words _Platform Nine and Three-Quarters_.

Under the canopy of smoke the crowd chattered, cats meowed, owls barked and hooted. Students dressed like Muggles and like wizards hugged excitedly, talking about _The Weird Sisters _and Puddlemere United.

The first few carriages were already filled, students hanging out of the window to talk with their families or fighting over seats. Harry pushed his cart down the platform, looking for an empty seat. He passed a round-faced boy standing with two women, the younger of which sat in what looked like a floating wheelchair.

"Mom, Gran, I've lost my toad again." The boy said.

"Oh, _Neville_," the old woman sighed while the woman chuckled.

A boy with dreadlocks was surrounded by a small crowd. "Give us a look, Lee, go on," a girl urged.

The boy lifted the lid off a box in his arms and the people around him shrieked and yelled as a hairy leg threw itself over the side.

Harry pressed on until he was almost to the end of the train where he found an empty compartment. He put Hedwig inside first and then started shoving and heaving his trunk toward the train door. He tried lifting it up the steps but could hardly get one end up, twice dropping it painfully on his foot.

"Want a hand?" One of the red-headed twins offered his assistance.

"Please," Harry panted with exertion.

"Oy, Fred! C'mere and help!"

With the twins help, Harry's trunk was at last tucked away under the seat. Harry pushed his sweat-soaked hair out of his face, "Thanks."

"What's that?" One of the twins pointed abruptly at the lightning scar.

"Blimey," said the other twin, "Are you-?"

"He _is_," the conversation switched twins, "Aren't you?" He added to Harry.

"What?" Harry stared at both of them, confused.

"_Harry Potter_," the twins chorused. Harry wasn't sure how they could do that.

"Oh, well yes, I am." The boys stared as Harry began turning red. Then, to his relief, a voice entered the compartment through the open door.

"Fred? George? Are you there?"

"Coming, Dad."

"Thanks again," Harry said one last time before the twins hopped off the train, heading for their parents. Harry sat beside the window and peered out at the red-headed family.

"There you two are- where's Percy?" The mother asked.

"He's coming now." The oldest boy strode towards his family, already in his billowing black robes adorned with a shiny silver badge on his chest with the letter '_P_' on it.

"I can't stay long," the oldest began, "All the prefects are up front- two carriages to ourselves-"

"Oh are you a prefect, Percy?" One twin clasped his hands over his chest in a gesture of surprise. "You should have said something, we had _no _idea."

"Hang on, I think I remember him saying something about it," the other twin put a finger to his chin, "Once-"

"Or twice-"

"A minute-"

"All summer-"

"Oh, shut up," said Percy the Prefect.

"How come Percy gets new robes, anyway?" said one of the twins.

"Because he's a _prefect,_" the mother said proudly, "All right, dear, well have a good term- send me an owl when you get there."

The father gave his son a fond smile and a handshake and the oldest was off with a kiss on the cheek from his mother.

"Now you two- this year, you behave yourselves. If I get one more owl telling me you've- you've blown up a toilet or-"

"Blown up a toilet? We've never blown up a toilet."

"Great idea though, thank, Mom." Their father gave the twins a fond smile as the woman shook her head.

"It's _not funny_." The woman became quiet and sullen without warning.

"I can't tell you to look after your brother," Harry caught only by reading her lips, a trick he'd picked up after one of his teachers mumbled most of his instructions for an entire year. After getting in trouble for not following instructions- never mind that he couldn't _hear _them- he'd learn to figure out what the man was saying by how his lips moved. It beat getting in trouble and losing his library time.

The red-head woman began sobbing uncontrollably on the platform and the man hugged her, smoothing her hair. The young girl looked uncomfortable and the twins gave the girl a hug each.

"Have a good year Ginny." One said, messing up her hair. The girl growled at him, swatting the hand away.

"Don't worry, we'll send you a Hogwarts toilet seat."

"_George_" the mother choked out, the scold sounding half-hearted because of her crying.

"Only joking, Mom," from Harry's position he could see the crossed fingers behind George's back.

"Go and get on the train boys, and have a good year," the man told his sons. "And for your mother's sake, keep out of too much trouble."

The twins nodded and the man led his wife, who still had tears running down her face, and daughter away. Harry pulled back from the window and frowned, then shook his head. He opened up his trunk as a whistle sounded and pulled out his potions and charms textbooks.

For the first few hours, Harry read as the train traveled out of London and into the countryside, learning about how to cure boils and the twelve uses of dragon's blood. Then, around half past twelve there was a great clattering in the corridor. A smiling, dimpled woman slid back the door and asked, "Anything off the cart, dear?"

Harry, who hadn't eaten any breakfast, hopped to his feet and went into the corridor. With the Dursleys, he'd never had money for candy and the few times he'd gotten any (never from them, of course), Dudley had stolen it. Now that he had pockets rattling with gold, silver, and bronze he was ready to buy as many Mars Bars as possible- but the woman didn't have any Mars Bars.

Instead, the trolley nearly overflowed with Bertie Botts's Every Flavor Beans, Drooble's Best Blowing Gum, Chocolate Frogs, Pumpkin Pasties, Cauldron Cakes, Licorice Wands, and a number of other strange things Harry had never seen in his life. Not wanting to miss anything, he got a few of everything, paying seven sickles and three knuts. In the compartment, he put most of the candy in his trunk, leaving out one of everything, along with the now done potions book.

As he munched on a Pumpkin Pasty he opened up his charms text. He'd read the book already and now that he was on the train, he wanted to try some of the spells.

Leaving the book open to the section on Lighting charms, Harry picked up a pentagon-shaped box. "Chocolate Frogs," he raised a brow. "I really hope this isn't a real frog." With the Wizarding World he'd quickly come to realize nearly _anything _was possible and that a real frog would not be beyond them.

He opened the box cautiously and barely caught the brown projectile that launched itself at his face. He felt it, then quickly took a bite of its head, relieved when all he got was chocolate. He then picked up the card in the bottom of the box.

**Albus Dumbledore**

Harry read the back of the card, noting that this gray-bearded man was his new headmaster, the greatest wizard of modern times, and famous for many things, including defeating the dark wizard Grindelwald, discovering the 12 uses of dragon's blood Harry had been studying earlier and for his work on alchemy with Nicholas Flamel.

Flipping the card back over, Harry started when he realized Dumbledore was no longer in the picture. "Whoa," he muttered, as the man stepped back in, "that is so weird." Harry munched on a licorice wand and continued reading.

Sometime later, after twisting woods had replaced ordered fields, a knock interrupted his practice of the time charm, "Tempus." The round faced boy from the platform entered, looking tearful.

"Sorry," he said, "but have you seen a toad at all?" Harry shook his head. "I've lost him! He keeps getting away from me!"

"He'll turn up," Harry tried to comfort the distraught boy.

"Yes, said the boy dejectedly, "Well if you see him..." he left.

"Poor boy," Harry told Hedwig, "I'd much rather have you than a toad." Hedwig preened at that, giving Harry an approving hoot. Harry turned back to his book, moving on the Mending Charm. He had just finished re-reading the section and practicing the wand movement when the door slid open again.

The toad-less boy had returned, this time with a girl. She was already wearing her new Hogwarts robes.

"Have you seen a toad? Neville's lost one," she said. She had an authoritative sort of voice, lots of bushy brown hair and rather large front teeth.

"I told him before I hadn't seen it," Harry told her, setting the book back on the seat, but she was looking at the wand in his hand.

"Oh, are you doing magic? Can we see, then?" She sat down and Harry shrugged.

"I'm not sure if this will work, I haven't tried it yet."

"Go on, I've tried a few and they've worked for me," she smiled encouragingly at him. He gave her, and Neville, who was hovering, a grin in return.

Harry took off his glasses, then held the book close to his face to double check the incantation. "_Oculus Reparo,"_ he moved his wand in a motion a bit like a spiral made into a triangle shape. He then picked up the glasses holding them up to his face to inspect them and grinning. "It worked." The tape holding them together had fallen off to show repaired frames. He stuck them back on his face.

"Have you been studying much? I'm Hermione Granger by the way." The bushy haired girl held out her hand.

He shook it, "Harry Potter, and yes. I finished the potions book for the second time earlier."

"Harry Potter, really? I read all about you- I got some extras for background reading- and you're in _Modern Magical History, The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts _and _Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century."_

"Am, I?" Harry asked, dazed. He was in books... that added a whole new level to this 'fame' of his. "Would you lend them to me?"

"Oh, of course!" Hermione gave him a large smile. "I can't believe you didn't know, I'd have found out everything if it was me. I like to read," her smile turned sheepish. "I as many additional books from Florish and Blotts- including _Hogwarts, A History- _as my parents would let me_. _Have you thought of what house you'd like? I think I want to be in Gryffindor, but Ravenclaw sounds appealing as well. Anyway, we'd better go and look for Neville's toad. Oh and you should change, you know, I expect we'll be there soon."

With that rushed speech and a quick smile, Hermione blew out of the compartment like a strong, if fleeting, wind, Neville following like a leaf in her wake. She seemed like a headstrong girl, but not an unkind one.

Both the boy from the robe shop and Hermione had mentioned a few houses. The boy had been all for Slytherin, although Hagrid had suggested it wasn't a good place. Hufflepuff hadn't been given a warm recommendation by anyone, although Hermione hadn't even mentioned it. Ravenclaw seemed to be okay but not preferable. Gryffindor also had been espoused as good by Hermione. Assuming those were all the houses, it seemed (depending on who was talking) that either Gryffindor or Slytherin were the best.

Harry shook his head. He didn't have enough information. Who even knew what you had to do to get into one of them. Taking Hermione's advice, he dressed in the robes he'd bought and settled back in with his book. Yet Harry wasn't alone for long.

The compartment door opened for a fourth time before Harry could even finish reading the section on Levitation charms. In stepped the boy from Madame Malkin's accompanied by two thick set, mean-looking hulks that seemed more like bodyguards than eleven year old boys.

"Is it true?" The blond asked, "They're saying all down the train that Harry Potter's in this compartment. So it's you, is it?"

Harry nodded as he kept an eye on the other boys. "At least that's what I think my name is. I could be wrong."

"Oh, this is Crabbe and this is Goyle," said the pale boy after a few seconds of staring at Harry with a confused expression on his face. For a second, Harry thought that it fit very well there. "And my name's Malfoy, Draco Malfoy."

The blond held out a hand for Harry to shake. He had a second's hesitation- a sensation in the pit of his stomach that things should or would have been different in another world- then took the other boy's hand. As much as he reminded him, despite the differences in weight, of his cousin, it wasn't like Harry had any friends. Here was someone who -seemingly- _wanted_ to be friends with him. How could he turn it away?

"So you were raised by Muggles?" The boy sat across from Harry, the other two sitting at either side, a bit like bookends.

"My mother's family," Harry shrugged. "What about you? What was it like growing up in the Wizarding World?"

Draco shrugged. "I had tutors, for my schooling, and anything I wanted, really, for entertainment the rest of the time. I am a only child, so I had run of the Manor as long as I stayed out of my parents way. Father has meetings -business mostly but politics as well- and is constantly meeting with the wizarding elite. He spends much of his time talking or owling Minister Fudge. He helped get the man elected." Draco nodded, sagely, although at what Harry wasn't sure. "Mother works with the charities we support and holds luncheons for her friends- or goes to theirs. I follow Quidditch, of course, I'm a Falcon's fan. Do you- do you know about Quidditch?"

Malfoy looked cautious and then aghast when Harry said "No."

"Bloody Muggles, not knowing about Quidditch. You can't continue like this." Malfoy sat back, "I'll teach you. Harry Potter not knowing of Quidditch...it's a travesty."

Harry sat there calmly waiting for the promised explanation. He didn't quite understand the reaction, but he was more than willing to learn. He'd liked sport in school, although he'd always been picked last, lest Dudley think some liked him.

Malfoy began speaking, going off on a long-winded explanation involving seven players and four balls and various games his Father had taken him to. He'd just begun describing the Nimbus 2000, a top of the line racing broom he'd wanted to buy and bring to Hogwarts but "first years aren't allowed and Father said he'd buy me a broom next year when I can try out for the Quidditch team. I want to play seeker or chaser maybe-" when Hermione slid the compartment door open.

"Harry," she smiled, looking at Draco nervously when she saw the unwelcoming almost-sneer. "I brought the books you wanted to borrow and _Hogwarts, A History_. I'd thought you might want to read it. Oh, and I've just been to the front to ask the conductor, and he says we're nearly there."

Hermione paused a moment and Harry watched her shoulders roll back. "Hermione Granger," she held out a hand to Draco.

The boy ignored it, tilting his head. "Draco Malfoy. Granger... that's not a pureblood name."

"I'm Muggleborn. I'll see you later Harry," Hermione dumped the books on the seat and stormed off, her head held high.

"Thank you," he said to empty air.

"A mudblood, honestly. How'd you meet her? And the gamekeeper- Potter, you should watch the company you keep." Draco scoffed and Harry felt the first lickings of anger stir in his chest. Hermione had been nice to him- she was even willing to lend him her books!

"What does 'mudblood' mean?" Harry asked.

"Dirty blood; those whose parents aren't our kind."

"So my mother." Harry looked at the blond Malfoy heir with eyes flashing like the symbol on his forehead. "I sincerely doubt her blood is any dirtier than yours or mine or Hagrid's, Draco. She is a person, just like us. Hagrid too. They've both been very kind to me and I like them; they are my friends. So I would appreciate it if you would watch your mouth and respect them. Otherwise, you can leave. I won't tolerate you insulting Muggleborns." Harry moved to put the books and the last of the candy in his trunk, his jerky movements displaying his anger.

"Potter, I-" Draco stopped.

"Yes?" Harry snapped, turning back.

"I'm sorry," the words came tumbling out and the boy looked shocked at his own words, as if he'd never apologized to someone before. Then Harry thought for a minute, letting reason penetrate his anger. Perhaps he hadn't, the boy looked spoiled, and if he _was _like Dudley who had never done anything wrong (according to Aunt Petunia) maybe he'd never have to admit he was in the wrong.

"I'll accept your apology-" the boy looked relieved until Harry held up a hand "-on one condition. You promise not to insult _anyone _ because of who their parents are, in my company or not. If I even hear a whisper that you insulted someone just because their parents are Muggles, I will never speak to you again. Not all Muggles are bad. Some of my primary teachers were quite nice."

Draco sat in silence for several moments. "Okay," he nodded. "But cut me some slack at first, okay? I'm used to it. My father, he talks the same way, at least at home and when he's with his friends. Despite what he says in public, he's always said Mud-Muggleborns and Muggles are inferior to Purebloods."

Harry frowned, but nodded. "If I can tell you're making an effort and it slips, I'll consider it."

"Potter," Draco paused. "Why do you like them?"

"Why wouldn't I? I like people as long as they aren't unkind or cruel, as long as they treat me and others with respect. Magic or not." Harry shrugged.

Harry peered out the window, noticing that the train seemed to be slowing, while Draco seemed deep in thought. Crabbe and Goyle just sat there, munching on Bernie Bott's they'd had in their pockets.

A voice just then echoed through the train: "We will be reaching Hogwarts in five minute' time. Please leave your luggage on the train, it will be taken to the school separately."

Harry's stomach lurched with nerves and Draco's pale skin seemed to get even paler. Harry made sure his truck was locked then followed Draco and his bookends out into the crowd thronging in the corridor.

The train slowed down and then stopped, sending a few people knocking into each other as they lost their balance. People began pushing to get out and Harry stumbled along with the crowd out the door and out onto a tiny, dark platform. He shivered in the cool night air; despite the fact it was still summer, it was chilly, and he wished he was wearing something a bit warmer. Then a lamp broke the night above the students' heads and Harry heard a familiar voice: "Firs' years! Firs' year over here! All right there, Harry?"

Hagrid's big, hairy face beamed over the sea of heads. "C'mon, follow me- any more firs' years? Mind yer step, now! Firs' years follow me!"

Slipping and stumbling on uneven ground they couldn't see, they followed Hagrid down what seemed to be a steep, narrow path. It was so dark on either side of them that Harry thought there must be thick trees there but he couldn't see much ahead either because Crabbe was there, his back a ready support if Harry or Draco stumbled. No one spoke much but Harry thought he heard Neville sniffling a few times.

"Yeh'll get yer firs' sight o' Hogwarts in a sec," Hagrid called over his shoulder, "jus' round this bend here."

There was a loud "ooooh" from those in front and Harry waited impatiently to reach where the narrow path opened up.

In front of them was a large black lake and beyond that, perched atop a high mountain, its windows sparkling like the stars around it, was a vast castle with many turrets and towers. Harry stood and stared in awe even as Hagrid called out "No more'n four to a boat!"

Draco tugged Harry toward the little fleet, sending Crabbe and Goyle away to sit somewhere else and picking a boy with a thin face and a girl with a pug nose to sit with instead.

"Everyone in?" shouted Hagrid, who had his own, larger, boat. "Right then- FORWARD!"

The little fleet of boats moved all at once, gliding across the mirror-like lake. '_It's like moving through stars'_ Harry thought as he looked into the water. He looked up then, staring in silence like all the others at the imposing castle. It towered over them as they moved closer and closer to the cliff on which it stood.

"Heads down!" Hagrid yelled as the first boats reached the cliff. The first years bent their heads as they passed through an ivy curtain and moved down a dark tunnel that seemed to lead them underneath the castle until they reached an underground harbor, where they clambered out onto rocks and pebbles made slick by the water.

"Oy, you there! Is this your toad?" Hagrid called out as he checked the boats.

Neville's face lit up, "Trevor!" he called, holding out his hands.

"He brought a toad, _honestly_." Malfoy muttered and Harry silently agreed, but shrugged.

They followed Hagrid's lamp up a passage way in the rock, coming out at last onto smooth, damp grass right in the shadow of the castle. They headed up a flight of stone steps and crowded around the huge, oak front door.

"Everyone here? You there, still got yer toad?" Hagrid then raised a gigantic fist and knocked three times on the castle door.

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**Thank you! Don't forget to review!**


	3. A Hat Decides?

**Hello again everyone and welcome back to another chapter of _Without Ron_! **

**Thanks go to all my reviewers, you make me smile and bounce around happily every time I read one. For the rest of you, emulate them, please. A happy author is a quicker author. Besides, I love your ideas and theories. Even if I don't use them, they make me think about what I am going to use. For responses to individual reviews, see the end of the chapter. **

**Disclaimer: Once upon a time, an author lived in Scotland and wrote about a boy named Harry Potter. At the same time in America, this author was being read to by her parents, as she could not yet read. Obviously, not the same person, no? I'm much younger than Ms. Rowling. **

**Parts of this chapter draw on Chapter 7 of _Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone_. If you can recognize it, it's likely Rowling wrote it. **

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**Chapter 2: A _Hat _Decides?**

The door swung open at once to reveal a tall, black-haired witch in emerald green robes. She had a stern face and Harry immediately knew she was _not_ one to be crossed

"The firs' years, Professor McGonagall," Hagrid said, giving a nod of the head.

"Thank you, Hagrid. I will take them from here."

McGonagall opened the door further and revealed an entrance hall so big you could have fit the whole of the Dursleys' house in it with room to spare. Flaming torches along the walls lit the space and the hanging portraits. A magnificent marble staircase directly across from the entrance led to the upper floors.

The first years followed the elder witch across the stone floor, their footsteps echoing. From a doorway to the right Harry heard the drone of voices talking- the rest of the school must have already arrived- but they were led to a smaller room on the opposite side of the hall instead. The first years crowded together like a herd of sheep, standing close in their nervousness. Harry found himself surrounded by Draco, the bookends, the two from the boat and a very pretty blonde witch.

"Welcome to Hogwarts," said Professor McGonagall. "The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your houses." Harry almost smiled. Finally, some information. "The Sorting is a very important ceremony because, while you are here, your house will be something like your family within Hogwarts. Your will have classes with the rest of your house, sleep in your house dormitory, and spend free time in your house common room.

"The four houses are called Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. Each house has its own noble history and each has produced outstanding witches and wizards. While your are at Hogwarts, your triumphs will earn your house points, while any rule-breaking will lose house points. At the end of the year, the house with the most points is awarded the house cup, a great honor. I hope each of you will be a credit to whichever house becomes yours.

"The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front of the rest of the school. I suggest you all smarten yourselves up as much as you can while waiting," Her gaze lingered on Neville. "I shall return when we are ready for you; please wait quietly."

Harry wanted to growl in annoyance. Would no one mention the houses in conjunction with what they represented? If you just got picked eenie-meenie-minee-mo for a house, there wouldn't be such preference for a particular house- would there be? So not only did they have to do... something that separated them from the others, but that would divide them into quarters.

"Potter, there are some people I'd like you to meet," Malfoy spoke. "This is Theodore Nott," the boy from the boat nodded and they shook hands, "Pansy Parkinson," the girl from the boat gave him a simpering smile and he gingerly shook her hand, "and Daphne Greengrass," the final girl just gave him a nod, ignoring the hand.

"Everyone, this is Harry Potter." Draco finished.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Harry, I can call you Harry can't I?" Pansy said, smiling. Harry smiled back and nodded. This girl was... odd. Odd was a good word for her.

"It's nice to meet all of you," Harry said. "Do any of you know how we are sorted?"

Daphne answered, "No, it's considered funny to feed first years outlandish stories rather than the truth."

The boy behind her seemed to relax and Harry heard him say, "So it won't be fighting a troll, that's a relief."

Harry looked at the others in the room, noting most of them were nervous. Hermione seemed to be muttering under her breath and Neville seemed to be close to trembling.

"So what exactly-" Harry began to ask what each house actually meant and why Draco favored Slytherin, but was interrupted by screams. He spun around and nearly jumped in the air, gasping.

About twenty ghosts had floated through the back wall, each pearly-white and slightly transparent, talking feverishly to each other and paying no attention to the first years. A little fat ghost dressed like a monk was saying, "Forgive and forget, I say, we ought to give him a second chance-"

"My dear Friar, haven't we given Peeves all the chances he deserves? He gives us all a bad name and you know, he's not really even a ghost- I say, what are you all doing here?" Another ghost in a ruff and tights finally noticed the first years, who didn't respond.

"New students!" The Friar smiled at them all. "About to be Sorted I suppose?"

A few students nodded and the ghost continued jovially, "Hope to see you in Hufflepuff! My old house, you know."

"Move along now," said a sharp voice. "The Sorting Ceremony's about to start."

Professor McGonagall had returned shooing away the ghosts and preventing Harry from finally getting his answer. "Move along now," she said, "and follow me."

Harry fell in step with Draco in front and Theodore behind him, wondering how his legs were working at all, they felt so much like lead. In a single file line the first years followed the professor out of the chamber, across the hall and through a pair of double doors into the Great Hall where Harry gasped a little in astonishment.

He'd never even imagined such a strange, splendid place, nor dreamt of it alongside his flying motorcycles. Thousands upon thousands of candles floated in midair over four long tables, laid with glittering golden plates and goblets, where the rest of the students sat. At the top of the hall another long table sat perpendicular to the rest, its chairs filled with teachers rather than students. Professor McGonagall led the first years up here so they came to a halt in a line facing the other students, with the teachers behind them. Hundreds of faces stared at them, the lines of interested (or hungry) faces punctuated every so often by a silvery ghost.

Harry sent his gaze toward the ceiling to avoid the stares and saw, rather than the arch work and stones he'd expected (he needed to stop _expecting _things, they rarely seemed to happen in this world) a starry sky. From a few students up he heard Hermione whisper, "It's bewitched to look like the sky outside. I read about it in _Hogwarts, A History_."

It looked more like the room had no roof than an enchantment, but Harry supposed that meant it was doing its job.

Harry quickly looked down again as Professor McGonagall silently placed a four-legged stool in front of the first years. On top of the stool in front of the first years she put a pointed wizard's hat. Or at least it looked like a hat. The thing had the right shape but it was patched, frayed and _extremely_ dirty. Aunt Petunia wouldn't have let it into the house.

Harry held in the chuckle at his next thought, '_Perhaps the rabbit-out-of-a-hat trick isn't just a Muggle thing?' _He joined the rest of the school in staring at the hat, feeling foolish as everyone sat in complete silence. Then the hat twitched, startling him. A rip near the brim opened wide like a mouth and the hat began to sing.

_Oh you may not think I'm pretty,_  
_But don't judge on what you see,_  
_I'll eat myself if you can find_  
_A smarter hat than me._  
_You can keep your bowlers black,_  
_Your top hats sleek and tall,_  
_For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat_  
_And I can cap them all._  
_There's nothing hidden in your head_  
_The Sorting Hat can't see,_  
_So try me on and I will tell you_  
_Where you ought to be._  
_You might belong in Gryffindor,_  
_Where dwell the brave at heart,_  
_Their daring, nerve, and chivalry_  
_Set Gryffindors apart;_  
_You might belong in Hufflepuff,_  
_Where they are just and loyal,_  
_Those patient Hufflepuffs are true_  
_And unafraid of toil;_  
_Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,_  
_if you've a ready mind,_  
_Where those of wit and learning,_  
_Will always find their kind;_  
_Or perhaps in Slytherin_  
_You'll make your real friends,_  
_Those cunning folks use any means_  
_To achieve their ends._  
_So put me on! Don't be afraid!_  
_And don't get in a flap!_  
_You're in safe hands (though I have none)_  
_For I'm a Thinking Cap!_

Harry stared at the hat as the hall burst into applause and the ancient thing bowed before becoming still. Of all the ways he could have gotten his questions answered he hadn't expected for it to be from a singing hat.

Based on the hat's comments, Gryffindors were like knights, Ravenclaw was for nerds (Hermione seemed to fit there), Hufflepuffs were loyal, although loyal to what was a great question, and Slytherins... Slytherins were willing to do what they had to in order to get things done. Harry sighed. if only Hermione had brought that book of hers over sooner so he could have looked it up. Those seemed like wholly inadequate explanations.

Now Professor McGonagall stepped forward with a long roll of parchment, "When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted."

"Abbott, Hannah!" A pink-faced girl with blonde pigtails stumbled out of line, put on the oversized hat and sat down. A moment later the hat shouted "HUFFLEPUFF!"

Her table cheered as the next girl went up and followed her to Hufflepuff. A boy and girl went to Ravenclaw, then Gryffindor received its first new member in "Brown, Lavender," and "Bulstrode, Millicent," became the first Slytherin.

Harry waited patiently, watching Hermione and Neville become Gryffindors (perhaps your choice had an influence?) and Theodore, Pansy, Daphne, and Draco become Slytherins. Butterflies began fluttering in his stomach as they reached "Patil," "Patil," and "Perks." Then, and only then, did she call "Potter, Harry!"

He inhaled quickly and moved his heavy legs forward as the room filled with the hissing of whispers. It seemed like hours he spent listening to them before he reached the hat and the stool it sat upon.

"_Potter, _did she say?"

"_The _Harry Potter?"

The last thing he saw before the hat obstructed his vision was the hall's hundreds of faces staring straight at him, necks stretched and contorted to see around each other. Then he was staring at the hat's inside and waiting for whatever might come next.

"Oh this shall be difficult. Very difficult." Harry was surprised to hear the hat talking in his head. "Plenty of courage, I see. A very good mind, yes, very intelligent. You like knowledge There's talent, oh my goodness, yes- and a nice thirst to prove yourself, now that's interesting... and a desire for steady friends. You are brave, yet cautious, you think before you act. You let anger get the best of you at times, yet you can keep that anger directed... hmm. Now let's see, where shall I put you?"

Harry gripped the edges of the stool. "No opinion?" the hat asked and Harry thought about it. Hermione and Neville were in Gryffindor, but Draco and the others were in Slytherin.

"Hm, you are an interesting one, Mr. Potter... but I would believe it should better be..."

"SLYTHERIN!" The hat shouted and the hall fell quiet as Harry took off the hat. He stood shakily as Draco began to clap, followed by the rest of the first years and then the others at the table. It wasn't hearty clapping, but it was polite enough and Harry sat across from Draco, his legs thanking him as he fell into the seat. The boys shared a brief smile, although Draco's was more a smirk than a smile.

Harry looked around and saw the rest of the hall still staring at him, including the teachers. Professor McGonagall had dropped the scroll with the names and was bending to retrieve it. In the center of the head table, a man he recognized from the chocolate frog card as Albus Dumbledore had dropped his mouth and left it hanging. Another man, sitting beside Professor Quirrell sat with a goblet of wine spilling onto him, his sallow face in obvious shock. A third, tiny man was climbing back onto his chair.

Then the red-headed twins started to laugh. "Potter... a... Slytherin..." one of them began.

"That is the best joke ever," the other finished. Harry didn't feel like his sorting was such a joke. Everyone else had been sorted without such a hullaballoo, but no, he had to be Harry bloody Potter. Had they all expected for him to be a Hufflepuff? Or a Gryffindor like his parents?

He looked down the Gryffindor table until he caught Hermione's eyes. She met his and smiled, shyly and he relaxed, returning the smile. She didn't seem unhappy and Draco seemed glad that Harry was a Slytherin. As far as he was concerned, that was all that mattered.

"Misters Weasley, kindly be quiet so we can continue with the Sorting," Professor McGonagall shot the twins a stern look that shut them up right away. Harry underlined the mental note not to cross her.

The hall's nervous energy seemed to settle as "Thomas, Dean," and "Turpin, Lisa" were sorted, the ceremony finishing with the hat sending "Zabini, Blaise," to Slytherin where he sat beside Theodore as Harry and the rest clapped. The professor rolled her scroll in silence, then took away the Sorting Hat and stool.

Harry turned his gaze to the golden table settings in front of them, wishing there was food he could set upon them. Now that his nervousness was gone, his stomach had changed from fluttering to growling. He was hungry.

Albus Dumbledore rose to his feet and beamed at the students, arms wide as if he hadn't just been shocked at Harry's sorting, as if nothing pleased him more in the world than to be looking out and seeing them all sitting there. It would have pleased Harry if the food would have arrived and they could eat.

"Welcome!" The Headmaster called out jovially, "Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And here they are; Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak! "Thank you!"

The man returned to his seat with cheers from the other three houses. Harry turned to Draco. "The Chocolate Frog card failed to mention the Headmaster was mad."

The boy next to Harry laughed, "Insightful little firsty, aren't ya? We can't tell if the Professor's mad or fooling all of us. It's about a fifty-fifty split those who fall either way. Corn?"

Harry's mouth fell open as he realized food had appeared on the table. "I love magic," he muttered, taking the corn. He had never seen so many delicious looking foods in one place: roast meats, sausages, steaks and bacon, boiled and roasted potatoes as well as fries, Yorkshire pudding and more.

He'd never been starved at the Dursleys', not exactly, but he'd never been full there either. He got what was served to him and naught more, usually less depending on how much Dudley stole from his plate. It didn't matter if he got sick, if Harry wanted it, Dudley wanted him not to have it. It had bred carefulness and cunning in him, trying to devise ways to keep his food away from his cousin. Astonishingly (or not, depending on your point of view), keeping his vegetables on the outside of the plate did wonders for protecting the rest as long as he ate it quickly enough. The nutritious items were anathema to Dudley and he didn't want to eat more of them, even if it meant getting a little more meat.

Harry took a bit of everything, except the peppermint humbugs (why they were there, he knew not) and began listening to the conversations around him.

Beside him, the older boy wearing a prefect's badge much like Percy was discussing whether they would be making the Draught of Living Death as they'd had to buy powdered asphodel and the infusion of wormwood. The general consensus seemed to be that if they made it, they were feeding it to the Gryffindor Quidditch team.

As he bit into a fry coated with ketchup, Harry returned to looking up at the head table. Although he appeared to be talking to Professor Quirrel, the black-dressed teacher still seemed to be staring at Harry, not maliciously, but as if he was the USSR.

"Draco," Harry looked at the other boy, who seemed to have been intimidated into silence by the ghost at his side, "who is the teacher next to Professor Quirrel?"

"The one in the turban?"

"The one next to him, in all black, yes." Harry nodded.

"That's Professor Snape," Draco smiled. "He's our Head of House. My godfather as well," the blond looked proud.

Harry felt sorry for him. "You're going to have to stay out of trouble then, aren't you?"

Draco looked at him like he was nuts. "If he's your godfather, he's good friends with your parents, yes?"

"Yes," Draco nodded.

"So he'll likely talk to them on a regular basis throughout the school year?"

"Yes," Draco nodded again, looking confused as to where Harry was going.

"So everything you do, good or bad, is going to get to your parents without you telling them in a way that will shed you in a better light."

Draco swallowed. "I hadn't thought of that."

Harry took a bite of potatoes. "I knew a girl in primary whose father was our school's vice-principal. Her father saw her teachers everyday so if she did something even a little bit wrong, she got in twice the trouble for it. Now, admittedly, there were some perks to her position- she usually knew more than the rest of us did about what was going on- but there were pretty steep downsides too."

Draco paled. "Relax, Malfoy; Potter, stop frightening the boy." The boy next to him said, turning away from his conversation.

"I wasn't-" Harry tried to protest. He'd been trying to warn his friend so he didn't get in trouble.

"Professor Snape will contact your parents if you get in trouble, but only if you have done so repeatedly or the offense is serious enough and he does that for all students, not just those whose parents he is friends with. He's a fair man and the only teacher us Slytherins have on our side."

"Why is that?" Harry asked as Draco regained, well, not color but a more normal looking shade of white.

"You don't know?" Harry gave the other boy a glare. He wouldn't be asking if he did, now would he?

The prefect laughed at him. "You need to work on that glare if you expect it to do anything. I doubt even a firstie 'Puff would be afraid of that."

"Noted. Now an explanation, please?" Harry raised a brow.

"Do I sense some Ravenclaw tendencies in you, Potter?" Harry took the boy's advice and practiced making his glare more terrifying, only to receive more chuckles.

"Slytherin has the worst reputation out of all four houses. We're the," here he put in finger quotes, "'dark' ones, the ones who are automatically deemed as evil, especially by the Gryffindors. The teachers don't do anything to help it either, you'll notice they're apt to give the other three houses points for doing well, but either don't give as many points to Slytherins or don't give them at all. The only ones who give us fair points are Flitwick, Sinistra and Professor Snape. Flitwick's good most of the time, as long as his ravens aren't involved, but he'll side with them over us. Sinistra's not usually around except for astronomy.

"Professor Snape is our Head of House. He's the one who looks after us- all of us. He's the one who makes sure we are studying, doing well in our classes, eating properly- he's the father most of us don't have. If you have problems, any problems, he's the one you go to. He's strict, yes, but he cares. Just don't lie to him. Lying to him is the worst thing you can do."

Draco nodded fervently, "I did, once, when I broke a cup. He punished me for lying, not for breaking the cup."

Harry finished chewing a bite of steak before asking, "what subject does he teach?"

"Potions," Draco answered.

"I suggest you make sure you know your textbooks well before your first lesson," the prefect advised, "Snape gives out a verbal quiz the first day and the Gryffs almost never get it right. As Slytherins, you'll be expected to be able to answer what they cannot."

"Thank you," Harry said, setting down his fork.

Once everyone had filled themselves up on dinner, the remains of the food faded from the plates, leaving them just as clean as they'd been before dinner. A moment later the desserts appeared. Blocks of ice cream, apple pies, treacle tarts, pudding... more sweets than even Dudley could have consumed loaded down the tables. Harry helped himself to a treacle tart and listened to the first years begin to talk of their families.

"I live with my mother," Theodore mentioned, "and my cousins, Wisteria and Jasper."

"Are they older or younger?" Daphne asked him.

"Jasper's a third year Ravenclaw, but Wisteria doesn't start until next year. And you?

"I live with my Father and my younger sister Astoria. Potter!" She was brief and then snapped at him. He raised a brow.

"Yes, Greengrass?" He took a bite of his tart. He wasn't quite sure _what _her problem with him was.

"You live with Muggles don't you?"

"My aunt, uncle and cousin," he nodded.

"I pity you," a dark boy- Blaise Zabini, if Harry remembered right, spoke disdainfully.

"It's an existence. Better since I learned I am a wizard." Harry shrugged, not wanting to get into it. They didn't like him, he wasn't really fond of them either at this point. Yet, if he could get to sixteen, he could file for emancipation. Or at least, he could in the Muggle world. He frowned. He'd have to look into emancipation in the magical world. As well as how he could prove his financial independence when the money he had was magical. Could he get some sort of bank statement in pounds to show to the courts? He'd planned on working, but that could be difficult considering he was now at an isolated boarding school most of the year.

Harry was prevented from musing further- or having to answer more questions- by the Headmaster standing. The hall fell silent and Harry paid attention to the man. Perhaps this speech would make more sense than the last.

"Ahem- just a few more words now that we are all fed and watered. I have a few start-of-term notices to give you.

"First years should note that the forest on the grounds is forbidden to all pupils. And a few of our older students would do well to remember that as well." Dumbledore's eyes twinkled and flashed over the Gryffindor table.

"I have also been asked by Mr. Filch, the caretaker, to remind you all that no magic should be used between classes in the corridors.

"Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of term. Anyone interested in playing for their house teams should contact Madam Hooch.

"And finally, I must tell you that this year, the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a very painful death."

Harry raised an eyebrow as high as it would go. "Our headmaster _is _loony. Why would you tell children that a place was forbidden, they'll go right there- no why is it forbidden at all? Why on earth would you have something that would kill you in a _school _of all places at all?"

"I don't know," the prefect answered Harry, although the comment had been directed at the world in general rather than a specific person. "It's odd, he usually explains why things are dangerous -the forest is full of dangerous creatures- or tells the prefects."

"And now, before we go to bed, let us sing the school song!" cried Dumbledore. Harry noticed the teachers' smiles had become fixed, as had many of the students, if they weren't scowling as the potions professor was.

Dumbledore gave his wand a little flick, as if he was trying to get a fly off the end, and a long golden ribbon flew out of it, which rose high above the tables and twisted itself, snake-like, into words. "Everyone pick their favorite tune," the aged headmaster proclaimed, "and off we go!"

The school bellowed:

Hogwarts, Hogwarts,_ Hoggy Warty _Hogwarts_, _  
_Teach us something, please, _  
_Whether we be old and bald _  
_Or young with scabby knees, _  
_Our heads could do with filling _  
_With some interesting stuff, _  
_For now they're bare and full of air, _  
_Dead flies and bits of fluff, _  
_So teach us things worth knowing, _  
_Bring back what we've forgot, _  
_Just do your best, we'll do the rest, _  
_And learn until our brains all rot._

Harry clamped his hands over his ears as everyone sang, the cacophony of voices was so grating. Everyone finished at different times, girls attempted high notes they couldn't do, and the mixture of tunes was so disharmonic he wanted to strangle whomever had decided to write a song without a set ditty.

The Weasley twins were the only ones left when Harry uncovered his ears, singing along to a funeral march. Dumbledore conducted their last lines with his wand and when they finished he was one of the loudest clappers. "Ah music," he said, wiping at his eyes. "A magic beyond all we do here! And now, bedtime. Off you trot!"

"Definitely batty," Harry muttered, drawing a smile from the boy at his side.

The Slytherins followed a girl with bright green hair out of the Great Hall and down a staircase into the dungeons. She then led them through corridors that all looked the same, down another flight of stairs and through a few more corridors until they reached an unobtrusive-looking patch of wall. She then spoke to it, "Snake's fang."

To Harry's surprise, the wall slid downward, forming an opening in the wall for them to enter. The house slowly trooped inward and Harry slipped inside just behind Draco.

The Slytherin common room was long, with large arching windows that showed nothing but darkness. The room's lighting was green and the sofas and chairs were black and green. All the wood in the room- several bookcases and cupboards, many tables and desks, and what looked like a chess set- was dark. Along the walls were moving tapestries of witches and wizards from the Middle Ages and at one end a fire roared. Skulls seemed to be another motif.

"Alright everyone," the prefect from before said, "sit down, Professor Snape should be here soon. Firsties, you're up here, can't have you not paying attention now, this is mostly for your benefit."

Harry sat between Draco and Theodore on one couch and waited silently for his Head of House to join them. In the mean time, he looked around at his fellow first years.

There was Draco, Theodore, Crabbe and Goyle (he'd missed learning what their first names were before) and then Blaise Zabini. Zabini had been mostly silent during the meal, Harry thought, although his comment about Harry's living situation suggested he didn't like Muggles. '_This seems to be a theme so far,"_ Harry thought, "_although Mr. Weasley seemed interested, if misinformed, rather than prejudiced. He seemed to like Muggle things actually."_

As for the girls, there were Daphne and Pansy, then three others. Millicent, who looked like a female Crabbe and Goyle, sat next to Draco's bodyguards, away from the girls. Harry had noticed her sitting with them at the feast as well. Then there was Tracey Davis, who had spent her time talking with the last female first year, Lily Moon.

Harry barely avoided jumping out of his seat when the common room entrance opened to let in the teacher. Hair falling around his face, robes billowing around him, he looked intimidating. The room was silent as he entered and stayed silent as he settled in in front of the fireplace, the first years sitting in a circle around him.

"Welcome, to all of you," the man's voice was low, but easily audible from everywhere in the room. The Slytherins stood with shoulders back, looking proud and happy to be where they were. "Prefects this year are seventh years, Georgiana Yaxley and Edward Rosier, sixth years, Holly de'Fole and Marcus Flint, and fifth years, Gemma Farley and Orion Paradizo. Remember that you must obey them and that they may assign punishments just as I can."

Each prefect raised a hand as his or her name was called and Harry was pleased to learn the helpful boy who had sat beside him at dinner was Flint. It helped to have a name if he needed to search out more information.

Professor Snape continued, "As Slytherins, your first rule is to always stick together. Outside of these walls, you are one. There are to be no squabbles, no fights, but unity. Within these walls you may work out your differences and feel toward each other as you wish. Out there, you are one. The other three houses will not trust you. They will sabotage you, taunt you and make your life unbearable. That is why you must always have each others backs.

"You do not go anywhere alone, especially the younger years. Always stay in groups of three _at least_. This is for your own protection, not simply because I want to torment you.

"I am here to help you, as are your prefects. If you have problems, no matter what they may be, you may come see me. My office hours will be posted on the notice board or you may schedule an appointment with me. I will come through the common room every night and you may speak to me then, or after your potions classes. I ask that you do not lie to me, but tell me if you need help or if you are struggling, no matter if the subject is personal or not. I will be there for you.

"I insist you check the notice board at least once a week. it is there to inform _you_ of what you need to know. Do not complain to me because you missed a date by not checking it. I will post a schedule for your mandatory physicals shortly. You will go to Madam Pomfrey for these appointments voluntarily or I will drag you there myself. If I am forced to do so, I will make sure you pay for wasting my time by giving up some of your own. I always need more potions ingredients prepared.

"Also on the notice board will be your study groups. These are also mandatory. If you struggle in a class, this is your first tool to improve. If you need extra assistance, see me and I will arrange a tutor for you in that subject. Fifth years remember that this is the year for your O.W.L.s, seventh years, for your N.E.W.T.s. I suggest you begin reviewing now, and that if you want some good practice, offer to help the younger years by reviewing their essays. You will both benefit.

"Finally, remember that I expect all first and second years to be in bed by 10:30pm, all third and fourth years to be in bed by 11:30. You need your sleep if you expect to do well and I expect that all of you perform to the best of your abilities. You also need food, so attendance at meals is mandatory.

"Are there any questions?" The professor finished.

Harry raised his hand cautiously.

"Yes, Mr. Potter?" The man looked at him, surprised.

"When do we get our class schedules, sir?" Harry asked. It would be nice to know which books he would need tomorrow morning.

"You will get them before breakfast tomorrow. I will hand them out in the common room so you may all have a chance to collect your books before you go to the Great Hall. As such, I expect everyone to be in here by 7:15.

"Oh, and Mr. Potter, five points to Slytherin for asking an intelligent question."

Harry's lips twitched upward and he was hard pressed not to grin. Why asking an intelligent question was a feat worth getting points for, he wasn't sure, but it was a good feeling to receive them anyway.

"Any other questions?" No one else spoke up and the Professor nodded. "Good night then, off to bed!"

"Good night, professor," sounded from many parts of the room and then the prefects stepped up.

"First year boys, follow me!" Orion Paradizo called out in an Irish accent and Harry followed him while the girls followed Genma Farley. The girls went to the left, the boys to the right and they found themselves climbing down another flight of stairs and then yet another. Harry had a feeling he was going to have strong leg muscles by the time the year was done.

"Okay, boys, you're paired two to a room alphabetically. You can swap rooms all you want tomorrow but for tonight you're with who you're assigned to. Keep your rooms clean, the professor checks every so often and you can have privileges revoked if your room isn't clean. Understood?" The boys nodded, "The bathroom's through that door there, all of you share it."

The tired boys nodded again, then looked at the doors for their names. Harry found himself paired with Zabini and entered. Inside were two four-poster beds with deep green velvet curtains, their trunks, two nightstands and two desks.

Harry walked to the bed with his trunk at the foot and silently pulled out pajamas, changing into the overly large shirt and shorts he'd inherited from Dudley.

"What in Merlin's name are you wearing, Potter?" Zabini looked at him, already dressed in a pair of what Harry thought was satin pants and shirt.

"Pajamas," Harry told him, putting his clothes in the provided laundry bin and then returning to his trunk for _Hogwarts, A History_.

"I know what pajamas look like, Potter, and those aren't anything close. Didn't the Muggles buy you decent ones?"

"No," Harry answered.

"Do you have money?" Blaise asked, glaring at Harry's clothing.

"Only in this world," he told him, a little annoyed. Yes, his clothes were terrible. Yes, his relatives had never bought him new clothes. No, he didn't want to talk about it.

"We'll owl order you some then. It's disgraceful, you wearing that." The boy turned away, as if the problem was solved, and climbed into his bed. For a moment, Harry was ready to argue with him, find out what this guy's attitude problem was, but he thought the better of it. If they couldn't switch roommates tonight, he'd rather not anger the guy he had to sleep in the same room with, at least not yet.

Harry climbed into bed after setting the alarm, meaning to read up on the houses, but he was asleep almost as soon as he'd pulled the covers up.

* * *

**Review time!**

**Lady Cougar-Trombone - Thank you for both of your reviews (and for liking the disclaimer)! Yes, the events of the prologue occur a little more than two months before Volde- sorry, You-Know-Who- was defeated. When the Longbottoms were attacked, it was only Barty Crouch Jr., Bellatrix and her husband doing the torturing, up until Aurors arrived. I enjoyed writing a more studious Harry, and I did seriously consider Ravenclaw as a house for him. He would have fit in there, to a point, but he didn't meet anyone on the train who ended up in Ravenclaw, and what Harry values are his friends. I was actually trying to write a Harry that could have gone to all the houses. He ends up in Slytherin because most of the people he's met are there, which tips the scales. As this Harry has no preference towards a house, the hat gets what it wants. **

**LightsPast- Thank you! As for Scabbers, he'll show up eventually. I'm looking forward to writing a Harry with better friends than Ron. **

**Colourful Concoction- I'm glad you found your password! Yes, Ginny still exists. That's actually why the prologue is set at the end of August, Ginny was born the 11th. She's a little over a week old when Ron is killed. I'm glad I could make you smile, because you made me giggle. As for the chocolate frogs, how could I leave them out? They're delicious!**

**Thanks again everyone!**


	4. Lessons of All Kinds

**Hello everyone! I hope the length of this chapter will make up for the time it took to write it. It ran away from me. Harry decided he wanted to spend a good deal of time talking during Herbology, which should teach me to think he'd not ramble when trying to explain things. **

**Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: **

**We were both young, **

**when I first read you,**

** I close my eyes and the flashback starts,**

**I'm sittin' there, on the bed in the autumn air. **

**'Cause you were Rowling's I was a five-year-old**

**and my mommy read "stay away from the corridor."**

***I also don't own _"Love Story" by Taylor Swift_**

* * *

**Chapter 3: Lessons of All Kinds**

Harry's eyes blinked open and for a moment, he could not figure out why the room was so bright. Then the events of yesterday hit him and he scrambled over to the window he had not before noticed. He frowned. He knew they were underground, so how did he have a sunny view of the lake? Then Harry realized he had no idea if he had overslept or not and he scrambled to grab his wand.

"Tempus," he cast, glad he'd studied the charm yesterday. He was relieved to learn it was only a quarter after six.

Harry decided it was a better idea to get ready than to try and get back to sleep, and quietly, without disturbing the lightly snoring curtains of his roommate, he made his way out of the door and through the hallway into the bathroom.

He was alone as he got ready, alone as he dressed, alone as he grabbed _Hogwarts, A History_ and walked up to the Common Room. He had thirty minutes and he wanted some answers. When he reached it, there were a few there, a prefect (Paradizo) and a few others, scribbling quickly, their eyes darting between their work and the text books in front of them. None acknowledged him as he sat in a chair close to a window, eerie green light illuminating his book. Past the thick glass, a fish swam and a dark blurry shape moved in the distance.

Harry opened the book to the table of contents, knowing that while he would devour the book properly when he had the time, what he really needed was to know more about the houses.

"Let's see," Harry muttered quietly. "Chapter 2: The Founders of Hogwarts, yeah, that should do it."

He flipped past the first chapter and dove into the second.

_The exact date for the founding of our esteemed school is unknown to us, and neither the work of the founders nor the work of their first students has survived to be dated. What we do know is that about a thousand years ago, during the 10__th__ century C.E., four friends came together under one vision; that of a school where young witches and young wizards could learn freely without interference or need to hide what they were. _

_These four were Godric Gryffindor, Helga Hufflepuff, Rowena Ravenclaw and Salazar Slytherin. All were brilliant and each had their own talents. Lord Gryffindor, in addition to being a superior swordsman and duelist, was the foremost transfiguration master of his time. Lady Hufflepuff was known for having the greenest thumb in all of England and for talents with food charms; to this day her recipes are used in Hogwarts' Feasts. Lady Ravenclaw was considered the brightest witch of the day, gifted in most all areas of magic. Her talents in enchanting and charms are, to this day, unparalleled, and both the moving staircases of Hogwarts and the enchantment on the Great Hall's ceiling were her creations. Lord Slytherin specialized in potions and healing, as well as what most today would consider Dark Magic. _

_In the beginning, each handpicked the students they would like to teach. This continued for many years until the Sorting Hat was created to continue the job even after the four were gone. _

_Each of the four founders valued different things in those they took on to teach. _

_Godric Gryffindor was a knight of the crown before he took on the task of educating young wizards and witches. This led to him valuing courage, determination and strength of heart and so the students he chose have garnered a reputation for bravery to the point of recklessness and short tempers. Lord Gryffindor was also an avid supporter of Muggle and Muggleborn rights due to his experience working with the non-magical population. Members of Gryffindor house have been instrumental in pushing forth anti-discriminatory laws and laws for Muggle and Muggleborn rights. Another notable fact is that of all Hogwarts transfiguration professors, seventy percent came from Gryffindor, continuing on the long tradition of excellence in the field. The colors of Gryffindor House are gold and scarlet, with the mascot of a lion. _

_Helga Hufflepuff was a family woman, the seventh child in a family of twelve. She was raised to believe in hard work, loyalty, honesty and compassion. Her students came from all walks of life and she often took those the other founders looked past. Hufflepuff as a result became the most neutral house in Hogwarts, rarely siding with or against any house as a whole, although they are known to vehemently oppose the Dark in all its forms. Hufflepuff has produced the least number of Dark wizards and witches of any house, the last known being Sybil Holloway. Black and yellow serve as Hufflepuff's colors, with a badger as the mascot. _

_Rowena Ravenclaw was a beautiful, intelligent, intimidating woman who sought knowledge as if it was air. Her diadem was inscribed with the words that are Ravenclaw house's motto: "_Wit beyond measure is man's greatest treasure." _Members of Ravenclaw are known to have their founder's love of knowledge, sharp intellects, wit, creativity and wisdom. Many Ravenclaws are proud of their fellow house members who have achieved great things in life, but have been known to be fiercely competitive while at school. Ravenclaws have invented such things as enchanted windows and _Aportia_, the most common muscle-relaxing potion. The Ravenclaw's mascot, despite the name, is an eagle and their colors blue and bronze._

_Salazar Slytherin was the oldest of the four and many say, the most entrenched in the old ways. From what few records exist from the time, we know that the Slytherin family dates back to at least five hundred years prior to the founding of Hogwarts. As such, the founder of the Snake's house valued tradition and honor, both things he looked for in his students. He also took those who had ambition, cunning, cleverness and resourcefulness. Some would say that Lord Slytherin also valued those who had a disregard for the rules and who would do anything to achieve their results. Members of Slytherin are thought to put self-preservation above all else. Salazar Slytherin's views on blood purity, which led to him leaving the school, have stayed strong in his house and very few Muggleborns have ever been sorted into Slytherin. Slytherin's gift of Parseltongue led to a snake being the mascot of his house. Slytherin colors are green and silver. _

_In the beginning, it is said, Lord Gryffindor and Lord Slytherin were the closest of friends, but as their views on blood purity came into conflict, this friendship was shattered. As legend relates, the two men had fought once more over the admission of Muggleborns into Hogwarts, this time with Lord Slytherin issuing an ultimatum: either they would go, or he would. The knight, although his heart broke to believe his friend would leave, refused to send away the Muggleborns. Lord Slytherin left Hogwarts forever and disappeared from the annuals of history. _

Harry snapped the book shut.

He had his answers, although how many of them were the truth, he wasn't sure.

In year four he'd had a teacher, Miss Maxwell, who had liked to give them all research assignments every month or so. The young woman had impressed upon them the need to use multiple sources and to check their facts, especially if the tone of the book seemed to indicate a bias. This one clearly did.

Taking what the hat had said into account, the descriptions of the houses seemed reasonably accurate, although the information about 'blood purity' was new.

It irked him that his new house seemed to have a prejudice, especially one that dated back to the founding of Hogwarts. It was obvious from Draco's initial attitude, and Blaise's continuing one, that these were prejudices ingrained from a young age and thus hard to change.

He had a lot of work to do then.

Harry was raised in a house full of prejudice. Prejudice against foreigners, prejudice against the lower classes, prejudice against magic and anything to do with it. At some point, he couldn't even remember when, he'd made up his mind to avoid being prejudiced against anything if he could help it. It was why he was so mad yesterday at Draco; he had just made a new friend in a world where he thought he could escape such follies and had discovered that the only difference was the direction of the hatred.

'_That's what I get for trying to be optimistic,' _Harry thought.

It had given him another goal, this one to change the opinions of his classmates and make them see reason about this whole blood purity thing. Of course, that meant research into their beliefs in order to discover more effective arguments.

Harry sighed and rubbed his scar, as he was apt to do when frustrated.

"Mr. Potter," Harry jumped out of his seat. The potions master stood in front of him, wearing a smirk. "Your class schedule," the man handed him a slip of paper.

"Thank you, sir," Harry responded, taking it.

"What is it that you are reading?"

"_Hogwarts, A History,_ a friend lent it to me," Harry told him, picking up the book from where it had fallen.

"Take its words with a grain of salt, Mr. Potter, it is a good tome, but it is fallible, just like its authors." The professor gave him a curt nod and walked over to one of the other students.

The room, previously empty but for a few, had filled up while he read. The professor and prefects moved from student to student, handing out the schedules. Remembering his, Harry headed for the stairs as he looked at it.

Monday had Double Herbology first with the Hufflepuffs, then Magical Theory. Afterwards was lunch, followed by Double Charms with the Ravenclaws and History of Magic.

Harry passed Blaise going up the stairs and moved out of the boy's way, continuing down to their room. If he took the books he needed for his pre-lunch classes, he could return to the dorms for his other textbooks after lunch. They had over an hour free- surely he could get them then.

Harry opened his trunk and grabbed the needed textbooks, some parchment and quills to stick into his messenger bag. He then added the work gloves, assuming they'd need them. Shouldering it, he made his way back to the common room. His wand was already in the wand pocket of his robes.

When he reached the common room he looked for his year-mates to see if any of them were ready to leave. Most were not, and moving down to the dorms to get their books. Only Daphne and Tracey were waiting with their book bags. Steeling his shoulders to confront Daphne's ice, he walked steadily over to them.

"Good morning, Daphne, Tracey," he gave them a cordial smile and waited for their reactions.

"Good morning, Harry," Tracey replied with her own smile. Daphne just gave him a glare but there was no heat (or ice) in it. He suspected she was too tired to kill him just then.

"Did you sleep well?" He asked, giving Daphne a knowing look. She continued glaring and Tracey laughed.

"Ignore Daphne," the glare switched targets, "she despises being awake before ten at the earliest."

"You knew each other before Hogwarts then?" He asked.

"Our dads work together sometimes," Tracey shrugged. "Most of the Slytherins know each other, because of family or business."

"I see," Harry nodded as they were joined by the others. Then it was probably true there were few, if any, Muggleborns in the house.

"Morning, Potter," Draco said as he reached them. "Can you believe we have to start the day with Herbology of all things? An hour and forty-five minutes of working with plants."

"Good morning, Malfoy. What, may I ask, is wrong with working with plants?" Harry raised an eyebrow and gave his friend a look.

"It's so… plebian." The Malfoy's nose scrunched in distaste.

Harry was saved from trying to explain to Draco why gardening wasn't something to be scoffed at by one of the prefects calling out, "All right you lot, get into two lines and follow me. And please, try to look like you're better than those 'puffs."

Harry stood next to Nott as they began leaving the common room, the rest behind them.

Harry made sure he remembered the route from the common room to the Entrance Hall so he could return the same way later that day. It was, after all, unlikely the prefects would shepherd them around all day.

Upon arriving in the Great Hall, the Slytherins sat down, their chattering removing the near silence. Few students from other houses had already arrived but the tables were already laid out with porridge, toast, eggs, bagels, bacon, sausages, fruits and pitchers of coffee, pumpkin juice and milk. An assortment of jams and other things to top the toast and bagels were scattered around, along with, for some strange reason, ketchup and tabasco sauce. As the other students of the school filed in, staring at him in, alternately, terror and fascination, Harry helped himself to eggs, bacon and a bagel with marmalade on it.

He'd made it through about half his breakfast when through the upper windows of the hall dozens of owls appeared, flying towards their owners. Harry watched the spectacle in shock, something his roommate noticed with a bit of disgust.

"Really Potter, do you have to look like such a bloody Gryffindor?" Blaise shook his head.

"Shut it Zabini, maybe the next husband of your mother's will be just as shocked. After all, she'll have to marry a Muggle if she wants to find anyone rich and crazy enough to marry her." Draco cut in smoothly.

"Watch your mouth Malfoy-" Blaise began, a much more intimidating glare than any Harry had seen yet that morning on his face, but he was cut off by Flint.

"Both of you, remember the rules. No fighting outside of the common room."

"Fine," both boys said in unison, proceeding to ignore each other.

"Most people send their letters very early in the morning or during the night, before bed, so that the owls are flying at night. They'll send them at other times too, but if it isn't urgent it's best to do so when it's natural for the birds to be out. The last time every one ignored that particular bit of wisdom, even the Muggles noticed something was up." Nott explained to Harry as he buttered a second piece of toast.

"When was that?"

"The day after the Dark Lord fell," Draco said calmly, the fork he dug harshly into his eggs indicating his continued irritation with Blaise.

"Damn it," Flint said, causing the surrounding students to look at him. The prefect was sitting with a rasher of bacon in one hand and a paper in the other. He angrily tore off half the strip with his teeth, a bit like a troll. Harry mentally compared the picture in _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them _to the boy sitting a little ways down the table. Hm, what did you know? They didn't look all that different.

"What is it, Flint?" Another older student asked, smirking.

"Puddlemere lost to Holyhead," he sighed, stuffing the rest of the bacon into his mouth.

"You say that like it's a bad thing," a younger girl commented. She ducked her head at the glare the prefect sent her way.

"What about the Arrows?" The female prefect, Farley, asked.

Flint swallowed and scanned the paper, "They beat the Tornados 270 to 180."

"Good," the young woman nodded with a satisfied smirk.

Harry turned to Draco, "Are they talking about Quidditch?"

"Yep. Flint, how did the Falcons do?"

The boy shot Draco a look. "That's Prefect Flint to you, little firstie," the boy looked down at the paper, "they slaughtered the Cannons, 450 to 0."

"Of course they did, the Cannons are a joke. I don't understand how anyone supports them."

"Because Bletchley, eventually they're going to actually win something and those supporters of theirs are going to win big," Farley commented.

"Right, that'll be the same day that Professor Snape voluntarily wears pink robes with bunnies on them," Bletchley snorted. The boy took a sip of strong coffee and sighed in contentment.

"Come along Potter," Draco tugged on his sleeve, "let's get out of here."

Harry, who had finished his meal while listening to the banter, agreed and stood. As he, Malfoy and Nott made their way out of the Great Hall a gaggle of Gryffindors tumbled in, chattering loudly. Upon seeing him, they quieted and glared (although even Daphne's earlier glare was more intimidating- most of these ones just looked constipated). The Slytherins closed ranks and dodged around them, heading for the doors. Yet even as they did, Harry was struck by the look of absolute hatred that had been in the eyes of one of the boys, one who didn't look much older than himself. The glare might have been off, but the eyes? The eyes were venomous.

The Slytherin trio headed out the large doors and out into the morning sunshine. They still had a good fifty minutes until their first class, but they had to find it first. None of the three had thought to ask for directions.

Harry gazed around the Hogwarts grounds. The lake stretched out in front of them, a tentacle poking up out of it. To one side lay the forest, and a hut in the distance, on the other the ground sloped down to a set of gates Harry could barely make out.

"Anyone have a guess as to which way we should go?" Nott asked.

"Not a clue," Draco responded.

"Pick a number between one and ten," Harry told them.

"Eight," Theo said, "Seven," Draco called.

"To the left it is then," Harry nodded and the three set off.

By the time they actually found the greenhouses, it was barely five minutes before class was supposed to start and all three were glad they'd left for class so early. None of the other Slytherins were there yet and only a few of the Hufflepuffs.

Harry stood with his housemates, flipping through the textbook absently, trying to ignore the frightened stares and whispered comments. Of course he was paying more attention to the badgers, whose gazes felt like little pinpricks, than the textbook but he wasn't going to let them know that.

When a bell rang to announce it was nine o'clock, the short, plump woman with the flyaway hair that served as the Herbology Professor led the rest of the students out of the castle and them all into one of the glass buildings, a bounce in her step and a smile on her face.

"We should've thought of that," Theo grumbled.

Harry chuckled, "Where's your sense of adventure?"

"My sense of practicality locked it away long ago," he retorted.

Draco hopped into the conversation, "What he actually means is he's too lazy to be a trailblazer."

"I see," Harry nodded sagely as he sat down. Theodore scowled at them both.

"Shut it."

"Now class, settle down," the professor prevented either Harry or Draco from making another retort, "My name is Professor Sprout and I'm here to teach you about Herbology. Now before we begin, can anyone tell me what Herbology is?"

Almost every Hufflepuff and half the Slytherins, including Harry, raised their hand (Draco and Blaise were two who kept theirs down; despite the fact Harry was sure both knew the answer).

"Yes, Miss?"

"Abbott, professor. Herbology is the study of plants." A blonde girl with pigtails he remembered from the ceremony spoke in an overly cheery voice.

"Very good, Miss Abbott, five points to Hufflepuff. Only Harry's practice at schooling his face in order to stay out of trouble at the Dursleys' allowed him to prevent himself from visibly showing scorn. Yes, you studied plants. However, you were also studying fungi, and the plants were both magical and mundane.

"Now, today we're going to discuss the proper way to care for plants."

For the next hour (although Harry wasn't sure how it could possibly have taken that long) the Professor gave them a lecture on how to properly care for plants, including fertilizing, pruning and watering. The Hufflepuffs listened attentively, taking thorough notes and asking questions. The Slytherins took the bare minimum necessary and sat silently, although Daphne and Pansy were passing notes back and forth.

Then Professor Sprout told them that for the rest of the period they were going to be working with Cytisus scoparius "Moonlight," or Moonlight Scotch Broom, pruning the plant back. It went into many potions, including Wolfsbane, which alleviated some symptoms of lycanthropy. Once she had demonstrated the proper method, she let them go.

The containers of the plant and the shears were in the back of the greenhouse they were using, meaning the students had to get up and mingle to pick up their equipment. Harry found it exceedingly easy to get his equipment; all the Hufflepuffs squeaked and got out of his way as he walked to the back and then squeaked some more as he returned to his desk. One of them even tripped over his housemate in attempting to back away.

"Good going, Hopkins," Draco sneered, taking a plant and stepping over the fallen badger.

As Harry settled down to work, years of habit making itself known, he took his chance to look around the room. Out of all the other Slytherins, only Lily and Tracey were not looking at the plant in front of them in disgust. The snakes were also quieter, only talking in groups of two or three. The group made a stark contrast to the Hufflepuffs, who were happily chattering away as they clipped.

"Very good, Mr. Macmillan," the professor said as she walked around the tables.

"No, Miss Perks, you clip them like this. Good girl."

"Mr. Zabini, please remember that you are not to take more than a quarter of the plant off, otherwise it could go into shock."

Finally the short woman reached Harry, who had just finished clipping off the last dead branch. "Very good, Mr. Potter, why don't you go put that back on the table it came from and clean up your workstation? I can give you your homework assignment afterwards."

"Thank you, professor," Harry murmured, doing as she'd said. He took the pot back then returned to put away the sheers. Afterwards he used a towel to wipe the station down, cleaning it of dirt. He finished by washing his hands and returning to his seat. As he sat, the professor returned.

"Your homework for tonight is a foot long essay on Moonlight Scotch Broom and its properties, due on Thursday," she told him. "You'll need to cover why it is used in Wolfsbane potion and two other potions that use this particular variety."

"Yes, ma'am," Harry said and the professor walked off.

"So Potter, why is it you're so good at this?" Nott asked, looking over at Harry. The pureblood was holding the shears as far from his body as possible, not even touching the plant as he tried to trim it. Consequently, his plant looked like a weeping willow, the branches hanging down because he had tried to cut them and hadn't gotten all the way through.

"My Aunt kept a show garden and made me care for it," Harry shrugged, "she expected perfection."

"Dontcha have house elves for that stuff?" Goyle spoke, shocking Harry. He hadn't heard him say a word all last night.

"Don't be an idiot Goyle, Muggles don't have house elves," Draco rolled his eyes. "The better question is why Prince Potter was the one doing the gardening."

"Prince Potter, Malfoy, really?" Harry raised an eyebrow. He also had no clue what a house elf was.

"Dumbledore said that you were being treated well by your relatives- that you would be raised as any pureblood heir deserved."

Harry snorted, "Right, and he knew that how?"

"Supposedly, he placed you there." Harry broke the quill he'd been pulling out of his bag and let it slip back in, taking up another surreptitiously. Suddenly he remembered Hagrid mentioning, something about that when he'd been first told about his wizardry.

"_Took yeh from the ruined house myself, on Dumbledore's orders. Brought yeh ter this lot."_

The words did not register then -he'd been a bit busy learning that his parents had been murdered- but now… now the anger boiled. What right had Dumbledore had to place him with the Dursleys? And more importantly, why?

"He never checked on me, then," Harry eventually told them, the slightest hints of venom creeping into his voice. By now Tracey and Lily were paying attention in addition to Draco, Theo, Goyle and Crabbe. "The first I knew I was a wizard was the day I got my Hogwarts letter and my relatives weren't fond of me or my magic."

"Of course they didn't," Theodore snorted. "Muggles have been against us for millennia. Forcing us into hiding ourselves, burning us at a stake."

"Nott?" Harry asked, twirling his quill between his fingers.

"Yes?" The brunet scrunched his eyebrows.

"How many Muggleborns do you think are in our year?"

"I don't know, five or six maybe?"

"So if that is typical for a year, then each year, ten or twelve people, more if there are siblings, learn that the magical world exists, despite being Muggle."

"Probably."

"So in Great Britain alone, say fifteen people a year learn magic is real because someone in their family is a witch or wizard. Those fifteen people discover that one of their own blood has magic. They can keep the secret and treat their magical relative well, keep the secret and treat them like the shit on the bottom of their shoe, or decide not to keep the secret and reveal to the Muggle world that magic is real. Seeing as this world is still a secret and we don't have lynch mobs going around hunting us in the present day, do you not think that perhaps Muggles have changed? They may not believe in magic anymore but they've also for the most part stopped with lynching or burning people at the stake in general. In fact the United Kingdom abolished the death penalty for murder in 1965.

"Now that leaves us two options; that Muggleborns are treated well by their families, or they are treated poorly, but they still choose to keep the secret. Why would they do so if they thought all witches and wizards to be evil?"

"They'd obliviate anyone who tried to spill the secret, Harry," Tracey spoke up.

"Obliviate?"

"It's a spell used to alter memories."

"That might work on a small scale. But if they went on a talk show and told the entire country?"

"What's a talk show?" Crabbe asked, his speech coming out with a lisp.

"Have any of you heard about television?" Only Lily and Tracey gave faint nods.

"Have you ever seen a play?" More nods.

"Okay, take the play and put it on a flat surface on one side of a box, so that you see and hear the actors because of mechanism in the box that projects that image onto a screen." Harry got a bunch of hesitant nods and plowed ahead.

"Now this box runs on electricity –that's what Muggles use to power things- and it receives what's on the screen through a cable that runs into the back of the TV. Muggles call what is sent to the screen a programme or a show. Those are usually serials, so they have an act a week that has its own storyline but ties into an overarching story for the entire show. They also can show movies, which are like plays, recorded and then played back on the screen."

"How do they get the images on the screen?"

"They take a video camera to shoot the actors preforming on a set and then edit the scenes together."

"How does that work?"

Harry rubbed a hand against his forehead as the bell rang. "Let's get going to class, I'll tell you on the way up there."

The rest of the Slytherins who had been listening to him cleaned up and then the group of six followed Harry back to the castle so they could find their Magical Theory class.

"Magical pictures move, correct?" Harry restarted the discussion.

"Correct," Draco affirmed.

"Muggle photos don't, they stay still. However, much like with a flipbook, if you put a bunch of pictures together where the changes are incremental and then go through them very quickly, it makes it look as if there is movement going on. Video cameras take pictures so quickly that when they are played back it looks like the subjects were captured moving, and to the human eye, it looks like they were. When you add an auditory recording, it is like seeing a play, just captured for your convenience to view at home."

"Okay," Theo nodded, "What's a talk show then?"

"Muggles have different types of programmes. Some of those are fictional, some are based in reality. They have newscasts that are live, so that instead of reading a newspaper, you can watch the tele to learn what is going on in the country and the world. Then they have talk shows, which can be live or prerecorded, which have a host and usually a guest or two. They then talk about different topics, which vary depending on the show. Some have to do with politics, others with celebrities and more with a combination of news, politics, celebrities and musical performances. They also take on guests that have extraordinary stories. Think of it if a Muggle family who had been scorned or mistreated by the Wizarding world and their child went on one of these shows, which usually have a studio and live audience- not to mention are recorded and stored- and showed magic is real."

"So thousands of Muggles would find out at once about our world?" Theo asked.

"Hundreds of thousands if not millions, and the story would probably spread around the world within a day, leaving almost 6 billion people with the knowledge of magic."

"So they _are _a threat," Goyle spoke in awe.

"If you ever attacked them or made them think that our society was threatening to theirs, maybe. If you treated them like they were human beings and equals, you probably would be left alone. Insulting them constantly and treating them as inferior would probably be the first step to starting a war between the cultures. A war that wizards would probably lose."

"Why? We have magic." Theo claimed.

Harry shook his head as they found the first floor classroom their Magical Theory class was to be held in. "Two reasons; Population and Nuclear Weapons."

The group filed into the room, taking desks behind their other housemates who had already arrived. The professor, who also taught Arithmancy to the upper years, hadn't yet shown up. Harry pulled out his quill and parchment, along with the textbook.

"Why would those two things cause us to lose?" Crabbe asked, his lisp a little more evident with his fear, his voice quiet.

"How many wizards, total, live in the UK? I'm guessing not 57 million, no?"

"Nowhere near that many. Are there really that many Muggles?"

"According to estimates, there will be 6 billion people living on this earth before we hit the new millennium and I don't know if that number includes wizards."

"Merlin, that's a lot." Tracey spoke. "I knew there were a lot, but not that many."

"What was the other reason Harry?" Lily asked softly.

"Do you know anything about World War II?"

"It was the Grindelwald War for us. He worked with the Muggle Hitler." Theo spoke.

"Do you know about the war in the Pacific?"

At the shake of their heads, and the ringing of the bell, he decided to make it brief. "After the European part of the war was done, the United States was still fighting against Japan. In order to force a surrender, they used atomic bombs on Hiroshima and Nagasaki. Immediately after the bomb was dropped on Hiroshima, 70,000 people died and another 70,000 were injured. Almost 70 percent of the city's buildings were destroyed. And that was in the 1940s, they've made many more, and more powerful, bombs since then."

"How do you know all this stuff, Potter?" Draco asked him.

"My primary school teacher last year really liked science, so I learned most of the stuff about television and the like from him. My teacher the year before that liked giving out research projects, so I did a report on World War Two in the Pacific then. I may have done more research than was necessary."

"Slytherclaw," Tracey accused, just as the teacher burst into the room.

"Sorry I'm late, class," she strode swiftly to the front of the room, "my last class ran over and some students wanted to discuss their homework."

The teacher was a woman in her middle-thirties or early forties, with long dark hair and crimson robes.

"My name is Professor Vector and I am both the Arithmancy teacher and the Magical Theory teacher here," she began without hesitation. "If you chose to take Arithmancy as one of your electives, I will see you again in a few years. For now, however, it is my job to teach you the basics of magic so that your other professors in the wanded subjects can spend more time focusing on their specific subjects.

"For today, we'll start by covering the syllabus."

The rest of the period was much more like what Harry was used to from a first day of class, in which they went over what it was they would be learning that year rather than actually doing anything. Their homework was to read the first chapter of the book before class the next day. It was a relief to his mind and his stomach when the period ended and they could go to lunch.

Lunch was a fun affair with sandwiches and soups of all kinds. Talk was light, with Draco telling a story about how he, Crabbe and Goyle had managed to lose their parents in Diagon Alley for a few hours as kids. He also seemed to leave out the punishment they'd gotten for doing so.

About fifteen minutes before their next class a warning bell rang, sending students to the dorms to get their books for their afternoon classes.

"Harry?" Tracey asked.

"Yes?"

"What was the point of bringing up talk shows?"

"Hmm," Harry looked over at her. He'd been paying more attention to the book in his hand than the people around him, but the others had gathered while he read and were all looking at him. He put away the text and the group started out the door.

"I was, before I got side tracked, going to make the point that all Muggles aren't bad, if they were, the Wizarding World probably would have perished long ago. Yes, they have rotten apples, some worse than others, but from what I've heard Wizards have those too."

"So that whole spiel was just to tell us that?" Nott confirmed. Harry nodded.

"Tell me, why aren't you a Ravenclaw?"

"The Hat picked Slytherin, obviously."

"No need to be touchy, honestly. Just a question, bookworm."

"Bookworm, really, _that's_ the best you can do."

"Now boys, no need to be snippy with each other," Tracey interceded. Harry and Theo both shot her pleading looks that made everyone else laugh.

"Harry," Draco looked at his friend as the others moved ahead towards charms.

Harry fell into step with the blonde, "Yes?"

"Are you honestly trying to convince everyone in our year that Muggles aren't the scourge of the earth?"

"If that's what they really think, then yes. Although I'm not limiting myself to just our year- I'm going to convince anyone who thinks that way they're wrong. I'd do the same the other way around you know, although I'm not foolish enough to try the Dursleys- they're so set in stone, a nuke couldn't budge them."

"Nott is wrong, you're not a Ravenclaw. You're either a Gryffindor for the sheer nerve it's going to take to pull this off or a true Slytherin for having the ambition to even try to do so."

"Thanks," Harry's lips curled into a sardonic smile.

"Why are you doing this?" The Malfoy asked, shooting him an odd look, one part curiosity, one part something Harry couldn't quite tell.

"Trying to talk them out of disliking Muggles?" Harry asked. Draco nodded.

"I made a decision when I was younger that I wouldn't let myself be ruled by prejudice because I knew what it was like. My primary teachers were always good to me, and a few of the neighbors, but a lot of the kids I went to school with made fun of me because I had to wear my cousin's hand-me-downs. And the Dursleys…" Harry sighed, "The Dursleys always made it clear my parents weren't the 'right sort,' they weren't normal, and that I was tarred with the same brush. I didn't know until this summer that it was the fact we are wizards they didn't like, but it didn't really matter. No matter what I did there, it wasn't enough to change their minds."

Harry stopped himself when he heard the anger in his own voice. "I don't _ever _want to be like them."

"I somehow doubt you could be, Potter," Draco drawled, the more open expression disappearing as they caught up to their classmates outside the Charms classroom.

Unlike the Hufflepuffs, the Ravenclaws did not seem to fear Harry. Rather they seemed inquisitive, with half having curious but wary looks and half having curious and admiring looks. Harry did his best to ignore them, getting drawn into a conversation with Tracey, Lily and Theo about what they would be doing in charms, a class that Lily was (despite the fact she hadn't really said more than a few words) obviously looking forward to.

When the bell rang, the door opened and the two houses filed in, Ravenclaws to the right and Slytherins to the left. Professor Flitwick, as he told them he was called, was a diminutive professor who had to stand on a pile of books to see over his desk. He began taking roll once he'd introduced himself.

When he finally got to Harry's name the professor squeaked and toppled out of sight, his Ravenclaws rushing to see if their Head of House was alright.

Despite this inauspicious opening, the class was a good omen for the rest of the year. They spent the first half of the class in a discussion of the Tempus charm and how it worked, and the second half practicing it. Lily got 5 points for answering one of the questions Professor Flitwick asked while Harry picked up 5 points for Slytherin by preforming it first, having learned the spell on his own. Before the end of class, they were also taught the alarm charm, which was a bit like a Muggle alarm clock in that you could set it before bed and use it to wake up in the morning. Unlike a mundane alarm clock however, it lacked the lovely feature known as a snooze button. You would have to redo the charm if you wanted to go back to sleep, a task more likely to wake the caster up than allow them the bliss of slumber.

After Charms, with a six-inch essay tagging along for homework, due on Wednesday at the beginning of the period, the Slytherins headed to their first History of Magic lesson. On the walk, besides asking the portraits for directions, they discussed the rumors they'd heard about their History professor.

These rumors proved to be true, even more so than Harry could have believed. Harry was quite bored the entire period as he took notes; his fellows had opted out of listening to the monotonous drone and could not commiserate with him- they were all asleep.

After all, the professor for History of Magic was a ghost. From what Theo had said earlier, rumor had the professor, back in those long before days when he was alive, liked grading in front of the staff room fire. One night he fell asleep there in his usual spot and when he got up the next morning to teach, he left his body behind him. Despite having likely seen many events, and probably having interesting tales about them, the ghost was duller than Dudley's mind.

When the bell rang to end naptime, Harry gathered his notes up and waited for the others to wake up enough to leave the room.

They had just enough time to go back down to the dungeons to grab the books they'd needed for the morning lessons so that they could start on their homework during their study hall.

They ended up in the Great Hall for one of the three mandatory study halls they had that week. From what he'd heard earlier, it was instituted for first years so they'd actually start getting into good study habits. It meant that for an extra period after classes ended, they'd have to be in the Great Hall, studying silently.

Harry took a seat at the end of the table, dropping his head into his hands.

"Come on, Potter, why so tired? Didn't you like naptime?" Draco smirked.

"One of us actually stayed awake last period," Harry grumbled, grabbing an apple from a bowl resting on the table. Biting into its green flesh, he pulled out _Magical Theory _so he could read the chapter for class the next day.

"Seriously?" Tracey leaned around Draco to look at him. "How'd you manage that? Two words out of his mouth and I was asleep."

"Will power," Harry shrugged. By then the rest of the first years had made their way into the hall, sitting along house lines. A professor Harry didn't recognize, one with more wooden limbs than real ones, paced the hall, shushing students and directing them towards their studies.

Harry had just gotten to the part of the chapter describing why incantations needed to be pronounced correctly for the spell to work when a piece of paper was tossed in front of him.

Can I copy your notes from History? Please? –Lily

Harry pulled out the notes, passing them to Tracey, who handed them across the table to Lily. She grinned at him and mouthed "Thank you." He nodded to her and turned back to his book.

The time passed slowly, with Harry getting through both the Magical Theory and Charms homework before the bell rang to release them. Lily handed back his notes with a smile and he put them away.

"Let's go back to the common room and put this stuff away, I need a break from all of this," Draco shouldered his bag.

"You do realize we still have to do our Herbology homework in addition to what Binns gave us," Harry drawled.

"After dinner," Draco sent Harry a pleading look as they headed towards the dungeons. "If I have to study anything else right now my head will explode."

Harry frowned but gave in. He'd rather do the homework now and have later free, but he didn't want to push Draco too much.

Harry, Theodore, and Draco headed down to the dungeons. On their way to the common room they passed a large group of Gryffindors just getting out of class. A group of Gryffindors with many of the same people as that morning, including the boy whose eyes were full of hatred. They followed Harry, raising the hairs on the back of his neck, as the three first years moved past him. Had Professor Snape not been standing there watching them, about to head to the common room himself, it might not have been such a peaceful passage.

The professor joined them on their walk.

"How was your day, sir?" Draco asked, looking up at his godfather.

"Two straight Slytherin/Gryffindor classes," the professor told them. Draco flinched along with Nott.

"I'm sorry, sir," Theo spoke.

Harry figured that this would be a naïve question, but he was curious. "Why are Slytherin/Gryffindor classes painful?"

"Potter," Draco sighed, "what are we going to do with you?"

"Teach me everything I want to know?"

"Only if you ask nicely."

"Or I could ask someone else."

"Or you could both be quiet." Theo shook his head. The professor was smirking at them.

"As you will no doubt learn shortly, Gryffindors are not fond of Slytherins and we return the favor. As it seems the Headmaster wants to turn my hair grey prematurely, I always seem to end up with Slytherin and Gryffindor together in my Potions classes. As neither house," he gave warning looks to all three first years, "seems to realize the _danger _of throwing ingredients into others cauldrons, it takes considerable effort to make sure no one dies from this rivalry. The _dunderheads_ I have to teach… it's not enough to ruin their own potions by not following directions, they have to try and fowl up the others as well."

The professor shook his head, scowling. The entire aura of the man, already heavy and dark to begin with, seemed to become even more ominous for those who crossed him. Harry made a note to reread his potions book, or at least most of it, before class on Wednesday. He would really like to avoid learning what Professor Snape did to dunderheads.

The four reached the common room and followed their Head of House inside. While the boys went downstairs to rid themselves of their bags (or in Harry's case, switch the ones inside for the ones he needed for the rest of his homework) the professor pinned two pieces of parchment to the notice board and took a seat near the fire.

When Harry and the others returned to the common room, Draco was carrying a deck of cards while Harry had his book bag.

It was Harry who noticed, as they passed the board, that the previously empty space was now occupied by two charts. He paused and looked at them.

One was the schedule for medical checkups. Harry sighed as he realized first years' checkups began during their free periods on Friday. His, however, was second to last, between Pansy and Blaise, at 9:30 Saturday morning.

He was nervous. Not really because he thought the nurse would find anything –well maybe a little- but because he'd only had a physical once before, before he entered primary.

The only thing they'd found then was that he was underweight, which had been explained away by him being an 'active' child and saying his father had been the same way. He should be okay this time as well, he didn't have any lingering bruises from Harry Hunting- Dudley had been too scared of him this past month to chase him.

The other schedule was for their study groups. The first years were divided into three groups, two of four and one of three, each named for a different type of snake and under the direction of a prefect. Harry was grouped with Goyle (so his first name was Gregory… alliteration seemed to be somewhat common, didn't it?), Lily, and Daphne under Orion Paradizo, the Irish prefect.

All three groups were to meet Tuesday, Thursday and Sunday from 7pm to 8pm. Attendance was mandatory unless there was a detention given by another teacher during that same period of time. Harry had a feeling working with Lily and Goyle would be easy enough but Daphne… he really hoped she didn't need his help in any subject and that he wouldn't need hers. She really didn't seem to like him for some reason. Then again he hadn't really seem anyone she was fond of.

"What are you looking at?" Theo realized Harry had stopped and the other two backtracked.

"Schedules, for our visits with the nurse and our study groups."

Draco looked as the study group schedule first. "Ugh, it's like he purposely separated friends."

"I did, Mr. Malfoy. Those groups are so you can study, not socialize." The professor, whose chair was near them, but with its back to them, spoke, startling all three.

"Yes, sir."

The boy, to avoid getting in trouble, looked at the other list. "5pm on Friday, good. I want to have a lie in on Saturday."

"A lie in such as getting up at 9am rather than 7 or a lie in such as getting up at noon?" Theo smirked.

"Shut up. Getting up in the morning is a torture far beyond any other devised by man." Draco grumbled.

The three moved away from the board, heading for a small cluster of unoccupied chairs.

Draco and Theodore began setting up a game of Exploding Snap, in order to demonstrate the game to Harry, but the emerald-eyed boy was called away by Blaise, who walked over and said, "Come," imperiously. His attitude prompted Harry to look at the ceiling and take a long, deep breath before following. He really needed to find at least one friend who wasn't quite so… sullen. Someone cheerful and open, who wasn't complicated.

Blaise led him back to their room where he thrust a pile of catalogues two feet tall upon Harry. "Pick at least seven sets of pajamas then show them to me. And actually, show me the rest of your clothes. Might as well get everything at once.

Harry narrowed his eyes. "Why are you doing this?"

"You're a Slytherin, Potter. If word got out we let you wear rags, it'd ruin our image." Blaise rolled his eyes. "Now take your clothes out of your trunk since I know you've yet to unpack and put them on your bed. Then take the catalogues to the desk and start looking. Got it?"

"Got it," Harry dumped the catalogues on the desk first and turned to open his trunk. He muttered "slave driver."

"What was that?"

"Nothing." He grumbled.

"Thought so. Hurry up, Potter!"

As he obeyed, one last thought crossed his mind. Why did Blaise have so many catalogues to begin with?

* * *

**Lady Cougar-Trombone: Yes, Harry has intentions for Slytherin that should, by now, be clear. He has no idea how much work he's in for...**

**CleverBlueEagle: Thank you!**

**LightsPast: I'm glad you like it. Blaise is going to be an interesting one. He has a few... depths that will make him interesting as the years go on. **

**Fu: I'm glad you like it. Yes, Snape is kinder... to his snakes at least. **

**AjGranger: Thank you for the compliments! ****I can't promise that, I'm not sure how she'll fit in at the moment. I tend to be very fond of her, so she'll play some role. **

******Slytherin66: Thank you for both reviews! You were right on some points, not quite there on others. You're right about Draco being hard to work for. Neville is the only first year pureblood boy. There are 2 pureblood girls. You had a lot of good comments and propositions, some of which I may try to incorporate. I liked your ideas about Harry inquiring about his mail. I'd have to think of why he'd start asking through. **

******Teufel1987: Dumbledore likes his plans, and how many of those surprising things were in line with his plans. Harry just shattered them beyond belief. As for 'claws, I typically think of nerds as witty people, but that may just be me and my friends.**

******Thanks to everyone who reviewed, I loved hearing your opinions. I look forward to seeing what you say about this chapter. **

******Until next time,**

******DreamingOwl**


	5. First Contact

**Hello everyone! Happy Birthday Harry! Sadly, this chapter isn't a happy one for you, but it should be a bit interesting. I do apologize for the shortness, but it worked better like this and I wanted to post it today.**

**Thank you to everyone who reviewed, favorited or followed this story; it thrills me to think that people are enjoying this.**

**Cookies to be granted to anyone who can tell me where I picked up the chapter title from. **

**Disclaimer: Now everyone sing along,**

**"Happy Birthday to you, Happy Birthday to you, Happy Birthday Ms. Rowling, Happy Birthday to you, you don't live in a shoe, you own Harry Potter, I wish I did too."**

* * *

**Chapter 4: First Contact**

Harry and Blaise followed Prefect Orion up the long winding stairs up to the Owlery, each of the first years carrying piles of catalogues. Blaise had taken one look at all of Harry's clothing and decided that it was being burned immediately; the Potter boy would just have to borrow clothes until the rush owl-orders came in. Harry had saved a few pieces (he would, sadly, have to go back there for some amount of time during the summer and he didn't want his relatives getting wind of his new-found money). Blaise's horror at their return to the trunk had been apparent but the boy had shrugged at the reasoning, rolled his eyes and proclaimed "the_ one _time he thinks like a Slytherin…" with his hands thrown up in the air.

Harry wasn't sure his vault key was going to thank him for all the shopping he'd had to do (shirts, trousers, undergarments, pajamas, shoes, casual robes, semi-formal robes, and formal robes) but it would be nice to have clothes that fit him. All he had right now was the required three sets of the school uniform and Dudley's cast offs.

It was a good thing he'd had the key though. Hagrid had almost not given it to him, until Harry had mentioned at the very end he might want to come back to get some more books. After all, he "wouldn't want to disappoint mum and dad by not doing well at school." Hagrid had then started crying (necessitating a tablecloth-sized handkerchief) and left the key with him.

Actually, Harry was more curious about Hagrid having the key. Hagrid had made it obvious that he was Dumbledore's man and so Dumbledore had the key and given it to the groundskeeper. Why did Dumbledore have it in the first place?

Also, what about identity fraud? If someone had another person's key, could they rack up charges to that person's vault? How secure was this method of ordering? He'd asked Blaise, but gotten a blank stare and no explanation in return.

Finally, the three reached the Owlery and while the prefect attached a letter to a barn owl, Harry and Blaise recruited several owls, in addition to Hedwig, to their cause. Having sent them off, they turned back to the boy waiting to lead them down to breakfast.

"Why so many owl-orders?" The Irish prefect asked as they started to descend the steps.

"I need new clothes," Harry shrugged.

"Isn't that what you get before you come to school?"

"I didn't have the chance."

"You were Muggle-raised, right?"

"Yes," Harry replied with an internal sigh.

"Muggles usually like the Alley," Orion commented.

"My relatives like normal."

"I see."

The group reached the bottom of the tower stairs and made their way to the passageway that would lead them back down to the second floor, which was a much quicker way to get back to the Entrance Hall.

"How do you know that Muggles usually like the Alley?" Harry asked, trying to prevent any more questions.

"My dad's a Muggle. Richer than sin, smarter than most in MENSA, but Muggle. Mom's a pureblood though. Married him to help out her family."

"Why is that?" Blaise spoke up, sounding as stuck up as ever. The only time he'd broken habit was when forcing Harry into ordering this particular type of shirt or that pair of pants. Then Zabini had opened up, if only to become more bossy.

"Same as your mother, Zabini, they needed money to finance their debts and she was pretty." The Irish boy sent the younger one a sharp glare. "Mum just stuck to one husband rather than seven."

"What's wrong with looking for love once it's gone?"

"Is that seriously the line she uses? A seven year old could do better."

"Isn't there a rule against fighting outside of the common room?" Harry broke in, not wanting to listen to Zabini defend his mother again. A similar conversation had occurred at least six times Harry knew of since the first at breakfast yesterday.

The other two shut up and the three walked in dead silence to the Great Hall.

* * *

It was after breakfast that Harry once more experienced the joys of sharing a class with the Hufflepuffs. This time it was Transfiguration, with Professor McGonagall.

It was not going be a class he enjoyed Harry realized upon exiting the class. Not as long as the badgers looked at him as if he was Voldemort's heir and the professor stared at him with a mixture of sadness and disappointment in her eyes.

That he had only barely understood the notes and only managed to make the match go silvery and pointy rather than actually become a needle had _nothing_ to do with his dislike. The only two to do better than him were Zabini and Nott, but this was the first piece of magic he'd tried that had not worked straight out.

Admittedly, watching the Slytherins behave with something approaching respect was interesting, as no one had whispered, doodled or otherwise ignored what the woman had to say. As the older students had warned them, McGonagall would be fair to them in awarding points, but she would take them away just as quickly if anyone decided it was in their best interest to be rude or disruptive.

After learning that magic wasn't as easy as it had first seemed, Harry and the Slytherins trooped back to Herbology, this time sans any of the other houses. Harry couldn't tell if the single lesson went better because they were only taking notes or worse because it meant the Slytherins had to answer questions. He and Tracey ended up taking all of them up until Professor Sprout refused to let them do anymore and told the others they would not be able to leave the classroom attached to the greenhouses until they volunteered for a question.

After lunch, the Slytherins joined with the Ravenclaws for their first defense lesson of the year.

It was a class everyone had looked forward to and everyone came out of disappointed. Quirrell proved to be a stuttering fool who seemed to know nothing about his subject. At the end of the hour and forty-five minutes they had to listen to him go "P-p-plea-se ta-take no-te" and then mention a fact about some creature or another he'd 'faced,' everyone was ready to be done with him. They would learn more and get less of a headache from reading the book and some of the texts in the Common Room.

In Harry's case, it was literally a headache he left the room with. For some reason, his scar had started pounding when they'd entered the odd smelling room and hadn't stopped but gotten worse every time Quirrell glanced in his direction. He might kill for some sort of pain-reliever.

Magical Theory was entertaining, and Harry's headache went away as they covered the importance of incantations. Mispronunciation didn't just make you look like a dunce in this world- it could be deadly. Something to remember if he ever tried saying "Oveeo" rather than "Oweeo." One would turn him into an egg, the other heal a cut. Hm, if he had a cut and turned into an egg, would that make him a cracked egg?

Study Hall was after Magical Theory and was devoted to the short Defense homework and the questions assigned in his last period class.

It was after the bell to dismiss them finally rung that Harry dragged Draco and Theodore out of the Great Hall.

"Seriously, Potter, slow down! Where are we going?" Malfoy asked, his long strides quickening to keep pace with the shorter, determined boy.

"The library."

"It's not going to disappear you know." Theodore told him dryly.

"No, but I heard the Ravenclaws talking about it and I read the passage on it in _Hogwarts, A History _and it's supposed to be one of the largest private libraries of magical works in the world."

"And you decided you had to see it now?" Draco rolled his eyes.

"You wouldn't come with me yesterday."

When the three finally reached their destination, Draco and Theo almost ran into Harry, who stopped in the entrance with a look of awe on his face.

"Potter," Draco said, nudging the younger boy. "Potter!" He snapped his fingers in the other boy's face.

"Oh, honestly," Theo muttered. "Potter, the books are running away!"

Harry snapped out of it and said "No, not the books, I need them!"

The other two laughed and received a glare from the librarian for their actions. Both hushed up without further scolding and the trio worked their way back into the stacks, looking for an empty table. Once they found one, they split up, Draco and Theo to get Charms books for the essay they still hadn't written, Harry to the Transfiguration section for the essay assigned that morning.

The look on Harry's face when he entered that stack was probably the most child-like it had ever been. His face was full of hope and joy, the simple delight in seeing a large amount of books and knowing that he could read them all if he wanted. Searching for the subject he needed, he pulled down one, then two, then three books, filling his arms.

"Well, well, well. Lookie here boys, why isn't it the little _Slytherin _Potter," a cruel, hate-filled voice (sounding like a villain from a bad movie) seemed to leach the happiness out of Harry. He turned quickly to face the three boys that had just entered the row. The middle one, the one who had spoken, was the same one who had been glaring at him in the corridors. "I think we should teach the traitor a lesson, don't you?"

The boy was fair skinned, with brownish-blond, wiry hair and green eyes. Large and athletic looking, Harry immediately knew he was in trouble. His hypothesis was confirmed when the skinnier boy to his left brought his wand up quickly. Before Harry could dodge or do _anything_ at all, he had fired off a spell.

"_Petrificus Totalus!"_

Harry's limbs snapped to the sides and he froze, the books falling to the floor before he joined them.

"Poor Dark Lord Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived to disappoint his parents. Do you think they'd like it, having a snake for a son? Do you think they'd like to know that they gave their lives for a son who went to a house full of those who caused their deaths? They were Gryffindors, you know. If you'd been in Gryffindor the way you should have been, this wouldn't be necessary. If you were a Gryffindor we wouldn't have to teach you what happens to slimy Slytherins. If you were a Gryffindor you wouldn't be betraying your parents."

The wiry haired boy standing over him kicked his ribs. "You're just a traitor, Potter. We should've known the only way a Dark Lord would be defeated would be if another Dark Lord was going to take his place. Explains why you never replied to Lucy either."

The three walked off, leaving Harry there on the ground, still petrified. If he could have moved, he might have curled into a ball, but he was stuck, stiff as a board. It left him feeling vulnerable, defenseless. Which he was. They'd proved that right quick.

"_Are they right?" _Harry asked himself, the insecure, child-like voice in his head sticking up. The voice had always been there during and after the worst of Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia's rants, asking him questions that had answers he was scared to know. "_Are they right that you've betrayed your parents? Hagrid did say there wasn't a witch or wizard that went bad that wasn't in Slytherin."_

Harry fought the voice. He'd read yesterday morning that even Hufflepuff had Dark Wizards and Witches.

"_So maybe he exaggerated. That doesn't mean there weren't more from Slytherin. The house's founder was against Muggleborns and Muggles. Against your mother. Haven't you betrayed her by being in a house whose founder wouldn't have let her come to Hogwarts?" _

Harry was saved from the voice by the arrival of another person.

Hermione darted into view, kneeling beside him. "Oh Harry, what happened?" She looked concerned and had he been able to answer her, he would have. Maybe she would know who his attacker was. They were in the same house, after all.

"Um, is it a spell? Blink once for yes and twice for no?" She asked him, pulling out her wand. He blinked once.

"Okay, okay," Hermione steeled herself. "I think I read how to counter it. I mean, I haven't tried it yet- I didn't think I'd need it this soon- but I can try."

"Here goes nothing," she gave him a very nervous smile. "_Finite Incantatem!"_

The spell failed and nothing changed, causing Hermione to frown. "Sorry, Harry, it was in the second year book and I didn't do more than a cursory reading and-"

"Granger what are you doing?" Draco and Theo came pounding into the row. "You attacked him, didn't you, Mudblood! Get away from him!"

Draco's shouts drew the librarian as Hermione looked at the blond in horror, scrambling for the words she needed to deny his accusations. He and Theo drew their wands and Harry couldn't do anything.

"What's going on here?" the librarian's voice was loud. All three unspelled students turned to her.

"She cursed him!" Draco accused.

"I did not!" Hermione found her voice. "Madam Pince, I came into the row to get books for the essay Professor McGonagall assigned and I found Harry already on the ground. I was trying to help him but the spell I used didn't do anything!"

Madam Pince walked to the petrified boy's side and took out her wand. With an elaborate twirl, she repeated the same words Hermione had, but to actual effect. Harry's limbs unsnapped and he was able to sit up.

"It's true Madam," Harry told the sharp faced woman. "Hermione was only trying to help."

"Who did this to you then, Mr. Potter?" He stood, hoping nothing in his bag had been broken in the fall.

"It was a group of Gryffindor boys, ma'am. I don't know who they were." Harry looked down.

"Can you describe them?"

"One of them was athletic looking, big, with green eyes and medium hair. Um, the other two were thinner with dark hair. They looked to be a year or two above me."

"It would make sense, that spell is usually taught to second years." Madam Pince nodded. "I can take points but nothing else, Mr. Potter, as I don't recognize those students. I know many, but only those frequently in the library."

"Thank you ma'am," Harry said, looking at the ground.

"Very well, forty points from Gryffindor for attacking a younger student. Have a good day, Mr. Potter, and try not to be alone in the stacks anymore." She picked up the books on the floor, handed them to him (after carefully checking each for damage) and walked away.

The woman walked off, leaving the four first years alone.

"Thanks, Hermione," Harry began. "For trying to help."

"You're welcome, Harry," she gave him a small smile. "Have you read any of the books?"

"I started _Hogwarts, A History_, but I haven't gotten through it or any of the others yet."

"Oh, good. I loved that book. It is so cool that the school has its own history book. It's seen so much!"

Harry nodded and smiled and the two stood there awkwardly, not knowing what to say.

"Um, I should get to working on McGonagall's essay," Harry shifted.

"Me too, see you around Harry!" Hermione smiled and Harry walked off to the table the boys had picked out. Malfoy and Nott followed him.

Harry sat down, opening one of the books and pulling out his quill, ink and parchment. With careful strokes, he began writing his opening paragraph about why visualization was so important to Transfiguration.

"Harry, what did Professor Flitwick say the second most important thing in Charms was?" Draco asked. Harry ignored him.

"Harry?" Draco asked again. "Potter!"

Harry picked up his things, angrily capping the inkbottle and shoving it into his bag. The books he grabbed to check out.

"Why are you ignoring me, Potter?"

"I didn't think you were so dimwitted as to forget a conversation we had two days ago, Malfoy."

Harry marched off, his anger and frustration taking over. He gave the books to Madam Pince and then shoved them into his bag with a quick "Thanks."

In a somewhat foolish move (considering he'd been attacked not half an hour earlier whist alone), he stomped his way down to the dungeons.

On the way, he ran into his Head of House, who took one look at the fuming boy and invited him into his office.

Harry thought about rejecting, his annoyance spreading to the world at the moment, then saw the look on the man's face. It wasn't an invitation so much as a somewhat polite order.

He entered the creepy office, filled with jars of potions ingredients varying from interesting to disgusting, and plopped into the chair in front of the desk.

"Now, Mr. Potter, what has you in so much of a snit? You're a bit young for teen angst."

Harry was sullenly quiet for a moment until the professor shot him a very pointed glare. Right, not questions, demands.

And so the whole tale poured out of him, gushing once he'd started until he had no more words and they slowed to a trickle. He inhaled.

It was the first time he'd ever unloaded his problems onto someone. Normally he had to keep them to himself –who was there to tell? - but this time, this time he had someone to talk to. It was nice. Moreover, he felt better now, not so furious.

The professor called out "Mitsy!" Harry started as a small creature -dressed in a pillowcase and with large ears and tennis ball-like eyes- appeared beside the desk.

"Yes, Professor Snape, sir?"

"Can you bring up tea for two, please?"

"Yes sir," the creature bowed and popped away.

"What was that, sir?"

"A house elf, Mr. Potter."

Mitsy reappeared with a tea tray, setting it down on an empty table beside the professor's desk. The man poured two cups and handed one to Harry.

"Thank you, sir," he said, simply holding the cup. The professor took a sip of his before beginning.

"I cannot be sure, but I believe I know the Gryffindors who attacked you. If I am right, I will notify you so you may keep your distance. They will, of course, receive detention.

"As for Mr. Malfoy, I suggest you apologize to him."

"But, sir," Harry protested. Professor Snape held up a hand.

"I know that Mr. Malfoy should not have said what he did to Miss Granger. I will suggest that he apologize to her for the insult.

"However, from his point of view, he thought you had been attacked and was reverting to act as he had been taught. Mr. Malfoy's father has raised his son to be a Slytherin in the old tradition, despite how he now acts in public. You are not going to stop such behavior in two days, Mr. Potter, although I commend you for trying. Let him prove to you that he can change Mr. Potter. I find it shocking you got him to apologize on the train, but a good sign nonetheless. If you give up on him now, he'll just revert to insulting Muggleborns and Muggles."

"You sound as if you speak from experience, sir." Harry sipped from his tea.

"Once upon a time I was a student in Slytherin House with a Muggleborn best friend in Gryffindor. One day in our fifth year, I responded badly to her protecting me and I insulted her as my classmates had dozens of times. She never forgave me for it. If she had… perhaps I would be a different man today."

"Who was she, sir?"

Professor Snape was quiet for many long moments. Harry thought that perhaps he should apologize for asking too personal a question and was about to open his mouth to say the professor didn't have to answer, that he was grateful for the talk as it had already been, when the man spoke, looking older than his years.

"Your mother, Mr. Potter, Lily Evans."

"You knew my mother, professor?" Harry nearly spilled the tea as he sat ruler straight in the chair. "Could you tell me about her? Please, sir?"

"Perhaps another day, Mr. Potter," the man said. Harry slouched in disappointment. He knew nothing about his mother besides the color of her eyes. "Would Sunday morning work for you?"

Harry's gaze shot up. "Ye-Yes, sir. Please!"

"Sunday morning then, Mr. Potter, at nine o'clock."

"Thank you, sir!" Harry beamed at his professor. He could learn about his mother! Maybe the professor would even have a picture of her and then he could see his mum's face.

"You should go put away your bag and then head up to dinner, Mr. Potter."

"Yes, sir," Harry nodded, feeling much happier than when he'd entered the man's office. He set the half-drunk tea down on the tray and grabbed his bag. Professor Snape opened the door and Harry walked out.

"Good night, sir," he said, nodding as he began to walk toward the common room.

"Mr. Potter," the professor called before he could turn the corner. "I suggest that you check over any homework you may have done while angry. Often when one is angry one becomes more snappish than one means- even in writing."

"Thank you, sir- for everything." Harry called back with a smile.

"You are welcome, Mr. Potter," and with that, the Potion's Professor re-entered his office.

* * *

**Thanks to all of the following! Want to join their ranks? Then Review! They did it and you can too! I'm going to stop rhyming now. So Long!**

**LightsPast: I'm glad you liked the passages, I was worried those wouldn't come out well. **

**Son of Whitebeard: Harry's primary education isn't ever really mentioned in the books. Here, it comes into play because he has better teachers. **

**Slytherin66: You're right about Muggles. Harry though, is only eleven. He sees a lot, but he doesn't see everything. He'll learn as much from the Wizarding World as they'll learn from him. I liked some of your suggestions (you might have noticed one being implemented in this chapter) so please, keep them coming. Also, you'll find the question "Why?" is one of Harry's favorites.**

**Teufel1987: I understand your points. However, I'm a good deal older than Harry. He's coming up with things off the top of his head as he gets to those points. If it was for an essay, then maybe he would realize that. But he's eleven and rambling. I know when I ramble it isn't until later that I sometimes realize that what I was talking about may not be reasonable. As for Harry's neighbors, some of them were "Oh yes, he's a delinquent." Some of the others gave him the benefit of the doubt. His teachers all around were better, as was his librarian. **

**Lightning King: My Harry will definitely be more advanced in some subjects than canon Harry, although it will take a while before he really starts to show it. Charms does seem to be one of his strengths, but Transfiguration will be more challenging. He'll make up for that in other areas. **

**Slytherin Potter: At the moment, Harry will be lucky to find out why she's so cold to him. **

**Lady Cougar-Trombone: I hope this chapter displayed one of Harry's flaws; a very quick temper. The others in his year will work their way in eventually, starting with Hermione. **

**eldridgeroy: Dumbledore oversteps many of his boundaries. Although 'Light' and working towards 'the Greater Good,' he isn't flawless. No matter how good or bad this Dumbledore is, Harry isn't going to like him. **

**Snakefang93: Thank you. I hope you like what you read. **

**AJ Granger: Thank you. The Slytherins are an interesting group and I'm trying to make them human while at least giving a reason they would appear like they did in the books to outsiders. **


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